


Pretty Boy

by wagamama_hime



Series: Pretty Boy [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Case Fic, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 148,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wagamama_hime/pseuds/wagamama_hime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he got up to go to work that day, Spencer Reid, a young Las Vegas exotic dancer, did not think he would become a witness to a horrific murder.  He didn't think he would be pulled into the FBI's investigation.  And he definitely did not think that this killer would ever come back.  All Spencer wanted was his life to be easy.  But now Agent Derek Morgan's come along and messed everything up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.  It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Corporation.  This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.  

A/N: Hello all! Welcome to my first Criminal Minds fanfiction, a nice little MoReid A/U fic. I say “nice” mostly jokingly because this story has a strong rating so I hope I don’t have to forewarn you that naughty things like language, smut (boyxboy to be exact), violence, and other mature things are guaranteed to run amok. But I hope you’re here because you’re fine and dandy with things like that, just like me ;).

Also, I want to stress this is an A/U, so by design (I believe) characters necessarily tend to be OOC. I don’t really believe in “OOC” for the purposes of A/U, in any case, but I figure why not “warn” for it from the get-go. I will be taking artistic liberty with things like characters’ ages, their background stories, who’s in the BAU at the time, and things like that. But I hope it will make for an interesting read, not send people packing, haha.

Lastly, I also don’t really see myself “warning” for every chapter if there are things like sex, language, violence, etc. because, again, you saw the rating when you clicked the story. However, because I do respect people’s personal experiences/traumas I will try my best to warn if a chapter includes anything like “triggers” (FYI this story will reference some instances of abuse, assault, etc.).

I’m really looking forward to taking this journey with you guys! Let me know what you think.  
XOXO

* * *

Spencer sighed as he began prepping his room for his next client.  The one before him had been a disgusting pervert, but at least he finished quickly and had been a generous enough tipper.

 _Everyday, more fucking perverts_ , he thought to himself.  _But at least when they shoot their loads early I can say I made the same amount of money for less work._   

 

He shrugged to himself as he smoothed out the black satin sheet over the small bed tucked in the right-hand corner of the room.  He righted the plush velvet chair, making sure it sat right in the center of the room, facing the large glass window that was, currently, hidden behind deep red curtains.  Walking over to the small vanity that took up most of the left side of the room, he pulled out the drawer of toys and quickly replaced the ones he had just finished cleaning from the last session.  He lingered for a bit, frowning as he stared into the drawer, remembering what the last man had wanted him to do with those things.  Shaking his head and letting out a dissatisfied huff he shoved the drawer shut.  At least the next customer would be his last of the night.  After this he could get dressed in his regular clothes, head for the bus stop and, hopefully, make it back to his little apartment on the outskirts of Vegas _before_ 2a.m this time. 

 

Looking up into the vanity’s mirror, Spencer grimaced a bit at his outfit.

 

 _Why do I feel more naked wearing these types of things than when I’m standing in my birthday suit_? He wondered to himself as he ran his hand over his clothes.   

 

Ignoring the white-button down and red-tie he wore under matching suspenders, he reached down to adjust the tight black short-shorts that barely covered his bottom.  He then straightened the knee-high red socks he wore with his black converse high-tops. He was supposed to be a “schoolboy.”  Looking at his long, side-swept bangs and close-cropped hair, accompanied with a youthful face, he figured he probably fit the part.  However, he doubted most innocent schoolboys had such jaded eyes…

 

Pushing away from the vanity (and the image he saw there), he continued tidying the room, thinking to himself about the things he’d have to do in just a few minutes.  He had had this next customer, Mr. Victor, a few times before and knew what the man liked.  He liked to play “naughty”—Naughty Teacher; Naughty Soccer Coach; Naughty Doctor, the list goes on.  He liked Spencer in “innocent-looking” clothing and wanted Spencer to play the part, too.  However, Spencer didn’t mind him all that much.  This guy wasn’t particularly kinky in what he asked Spencer to do, and, besides, he often didn’t even need Spencer to take all his clothes off.  For Mr. Victor, the fantasy was almost always enough to get him off.  Spencer just had to fill it in with some imaginative dialogue and teasing body language. Spencer knew how to do that.

 

Feeling satisfied that the room was in order (and that the customer would not be offended by the thought that he had been performing for and laying his affections on anyone _else_ that night), he picked up a bottle of Windex and began to make his way over to the heavy red curtains.  _Gotta make sure I remember to clean the windows,_ Spencer thought to himself. 

 

Remembering it distastefully, the last customer had wanted Spencer pressed up to the glass as he performed for him, so Spencer wanted to make sure that the window was spic and span for his next session. 

 

As he approached the curtains he could see slight movement through the small gap between where the curtains met.  Tilting his head to the side in surprise, he wondered to himself, _Did Mr. Victor get here early?_   Glancing down at his watch, he saw that he still had almost 15 minutes before his session was set to start.  Sighing in frustration, Spencer realized he couldn’t properly clean the window if the man was there.  As soon as the curtains were open, Mr. Victor (as any guest would) would expect a show.  But, he wondered, what the man was doing waiting there so early.  That was unlike him… Moving slowly up to the gap between the curtains, he leaned forward and peeped through.  But his blood ran cold at what he saw. 

 

At first Spencer wasn’t quite sure he was making sense of the scene in front of him.  He could see the back of a tall man in a long, black trench coat (which stood out as odd to Spencer, seeing as how it was May in Las Vegas) and what appeared to be someone seated in front of him, but this person was obscured from Spencer’s view.  The black-clad man’s build, while not exceedingly large, made apparent that there lay a powerful and muscular body under the coat. The man’s dark hair was cut into a buzzcut, and Spencer followed the skin of the man’s thick, muscular-looking neck to some type of intricate and sprawling tattoo that peeked out of the man’s collar.  This was definitely not Mr. Victor. 

 

The man, back still facing the glass, reared back and raised his left arm in the air and that is when Spencer saw the glint of metal and what looked like movement from in front of the man. Before Spencer could take a breath, the man swung downwards and Spencer could see the seated person jerk and flail, arms twitching and leg convulsing.  Spencer stared in horror, his voice frozen in his throat, as the man in black stepped to the side of this person revealing the grotesque aftermath to Spencer. 

 

There was Mr. Victor, seated in the normal viewing chair, but he was slumped over and a large knife was protruding from his forehead.  Spencer stared, dumfounded, into the man’s open and lifeless eyes as blood dripped down his brow and off the tip of his nose.  Spencer watched as, calmly, the stranger walked past his victim and out the doors of the viewing room, not stopping even once to look back at the destruction he had left in his wake.

 

Still locked in a stare with the dead man, Spencer began to feel a burning sensation in his chest.  He had stopped breathing. The painful lack of oxygen kick-started his brain and Spencer suddenly took in a large breath.  Then he screamed.  And screamed. And screamed.

* * *

 

Spencer was still screaming as a number of people rushed into the room.  He didn’t know who was there or what they were saying, but soon someone was grabbing him by the arms, trying to talk to him.  Unable to look away from the murdered man, Spencer watched, almost remotely, as someone drew back the curtains and more of the scene was revealed.  As other people started screaming, Spencer pushed out of the arms that were holding him and away from the exposed scene.  He didn’t want to see anymore.

 

Feeling arms on him again, and someone turning his body so his eyes could no longer fall on the gruesome scene, Spencer finally snapped back to reality.  Staring up in to the face of Axel, one of the older show-boys, Spencer tried to make sense of what was being said to him.

 

“Spencer! Spencer! Hey, look at me! What happened here?? What’s going on?” Axel asked in panic.  The dark-haired boy’s brow was furrowed in concern as he saw the panic clearly etched on to his younger-friend’s face.

 

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer breathed out, “I… I just, I saw someone and he… Oh, God, he killed him. Oh God!”

 

Before Axel could say anything else, he was being pushed out of Spencer’s line of sight by Lindy, one of the club’s managers.  Lindy, although small and blonde, was one of the toughest people Spencer knew.  He knew that if anyone would handle this, Lindy would.

 

“Spencer, listen to me kid. Do you know who it was who did it? Was it one of your regulars?” she asked briskly, her green eyes narrowed and sharp.

 

Spencer just shook his head quickly, in the negative.

 

“So you have no idea who it was? You never saw the guy before?” she persisted.

“N-no. Never,” Spencer said softly.

 

“Ok, hun,” Lindy said as she helped the boy shakily get to his feet. She signaled to Axel and one of the females to help hold the boy up.

 

“I want you to get out of here, ok? Go to the prep room and just get your bearings about yourself and you can just go home hun.  You don’t need to be here for any of this,” she said to him soothingly.

 

“B-but, what a-about Mr. Victor?” Spencer asked, refusing to look over to the window where three or four of the employees were still standing expressing their horror.

 

A guarded look came over the older woman’s eyes as she placed her hands reassuringly on Spencer’s shoulder.

 

“Look,” she said, “we…we’re going to get this guy out of here.  You don’t know who he is and if the police show up here and have to interview every one of our customers it’s going to just be bad for business. So…we’re going to just dump him outside or something, and the police will come across him eventually.  We just… we can’t be caught up in this mess, sweetheart.”

 

The room fell quiet as everyone realized what Lindy was suggesting.

 

“We… No, you can’t be serious. We have to call the fucking police, Lindy!  Someone was _murdered_ here! It just as well COULD have been one of our customers! There’s no way to know!” Spencer almost shrieked, the hysteria apparent in his voice.

 

“Look, kid,” Lindy said sharply, all semblance of comfort now gone from her voice. “If you still want a job here, you’ll do as I say. I can’t have the cops thinking people get murdered here.  And I especially don’t want them sniffing around.  As much as _we_ know, this could be completely unrelated to anything this poor bastard was doing at our club.  He might’ve just owed somebody a big debt and couldn’t pay up.  So, you better heed me when I say to keep your little trap shut.  You hear me?”

 

Spencer flinched at the harshness of her voice, and felt the urge to challenge her but stopped when he felt a slight squeeze on his shoulder from behind.  Turning around quickly he could see Axel standing beside him, and the look in the older boy’s eyes told him to not press it.  Glaring at Lindy, Spencer huffed in frustration and stormed from the room.

 

Stumbling down the hallway, Spencer felt dizzy and his heart was racing in his chest.  Axel tried to call out to him but Spencer pushed him away mumbling “I’m fine.”  All around him Spencer heard the panicked voices of the other workers as they buzzed around the hallway, but it was as if they were coming through cotton.  He kept walking, straight past the prep room, and burst into the bathroom.

 

Pushing open the door of the first stall he saw, Spencer stumbled over to the bowl and collapsed on his knees.  In mere seconds, his head was hanging over the bowl and he was vomiting. When he finally emptied the contents of his stomach he pushed himself back from the bowl and ran his hands over his face.  Feeling wetness there he pulled his hands back.  He was sobbing, and he hadn’t even known it.

 

 _What am I supposed to do_? Spencer thought to himself in complete panic. 

He felt conflicted.  He had never seen a dead body before—he figured most people hadn’t.  But what bothered him the most, and what he was sure precipitated his sickness, was that he was supposed to act as if nothing had happened.  He couldn’t do that. A human being had just been coldly and brutally murdered right in front of him.    

 

 _I can’t just let them hide the body.  The police will never know what really happened_!

 

Steeling himself with resolve Spencer quickly shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved his old beat-up cellphone.  Without giving himself the chance to think about the consequences, Spencer quickly punched in the familiar three numbers and waited for the line to connect.  Within seconds he heard, “911, what’s your emergency.”

 

Whispering, Spencer quickly rushed out “I’m at the _Mon Petit Chien_ on B-Burgundy Drive. I-I think someone’s been murdered here.  You have to come! Quick!”

“Excuse me, sir? Did you say someone’s been _murdered_?” the woman asked.

The bathroom door slammed open and Spencer jumped, startled from his position on the floor.

He quickly ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

 

“Spencer, you in here? We’re worried about you, man,” he heard a voice call.

 _Axel_ , Spencer thought as he unlocked the bathroom door. 

The other boy looked at him strangely and Spencer quickly remembered to wipe the remaining tears off his face.  Giving him an understanding look, Axel patted Spencer on the shoulder.

 

“Look, Lindy was right.  You should just go home.  Don’t think about this anymore, ok?  I know it’s hard but… you just can’t dwell on stuff like this.  We don’t need the cops snooping around.  It’s not good for any of us.  Come on, let’s get your stuff and get you out of here,” Axel said to him.

 

Spencer nodded silently, unable to agree with him but also unable to tell him the truth. Spencer let himself be led out of the bathroom and down the hall to the prep room. As Spencer made his way over to his locker and began to retrieve his belongings under the watchful eye of Axel he heard commotion coming from the hallway.  Axel glanced at him and said “Hey, you’ll be ok in here right? I don’t know what that is, but I’m going to check it out.  Stay right here.” And then Axel was gone, hurrying down the hallway towards the noises.

 

After having kicked off his shoes, Spencer robotically began to step into his jeans, not bothering to change out of his “costume” for the night.  Suddenly he heard doors banging in the hallway and voices shouting “POLICE!!”  His eyes widened and he dropped his bags as a uniformed officer stormed into the room.

* * *

Two hours later all the employees of _Mon Petit Chien_ , one of Las Vegas’ more notorious exotic dance and peepshow clubs, were lined up in the main stage area, being questioned by LVPD about the dead body found in one of the peepshow rooms. Spencer stared down at his hands as he listened to what was going on around him.  Lindy was currently talking to the lead detective, purposefully being loud enough for her staff to hear, and Spencer knew that it was a clear warning for them all to “fall in line” with the story she was telling.

 

“Detective Stone, we have no idea who this man is or how he ended up this way.  As I told you before, the rooms aren’t assigned to any one specific dancer.  So we have no way to know who the man was going to see.  But what I do know is that no one was in there when this man was killed.  So no one of my staff can be of any particular help to you in _how_ he came to such a tragic end.  We discovered him after the fact and… and we were all just so shocked we didn’t know what to do.”

 

“Ms…Roth,” Stone said in a gravelly voice as he glanced down at his notebook for confirmation, “please don’t take offense to this when I say I smell a load of bullshit here.” Lindy visibly flinched at the man’s tone.

 

“You want me to believe this was all some innocent misunderstanding? When we arrived it appeared pretty evident that you had these three guys” Stone said as he gestured to three men standing to the right of Lindy with his thumb, “getting ready to move the fucking body!”

 

“Listen, sir, I admit that it may look suspicious but we had _nothing_ to do with this man’s death.  We panicked and we thought we were doing the right thing by moving him! We had no way of knowing if he was alive or not.  I had these good boys in there to check to see if that man was still alive!” she argued back.

 

The detective rolled his eyes with a huff, then scanned the line of approximately 20 employees, his eyes landing on each individual briefly.  Spencer willed himself not to look away once the man’s eyes landed on him, and soon Stone had continued on down the line. 

 

“So, which one of you called the police, huh?” he asked.

 

Everyone stayed silent and no one looked up at the police.  Spencer was thankful that it didn’t seem anyone looked at him either.

 

“Someone here decided to be a good Samaritan huh? But all of a sudden cat got your tongue??” Stone asked angrily.  “A man was _murdered_! One of your fucking clients, I presume. And, what, suddenly the cash cow stops and you can’t be bothered? Miserable fucking lowlifes!”

 

An officer walked up next to Stone and whispered something in his ear, cutting the man’s tirade short.  Spencer watched carefully, now that Stone’s attention had been diverted, and saw the man’s body tense in response to whatever he was being told.  Stone then nodded at the officer and sent the officer on his way.

 

“For now, you all have dodged a bullet here since none of you had any noticeable blood or other trace evidence on you when we examined you. Most of your alibis check out, but I hope I make myself clear when I say not a single one of you should be thinking of skipping town.  We will almost surely be interviewing each of you again to get to the bottom of this.  And if you make this difficult on us, we’ll make it difficult on you by shutting this cesspool down.  Do I make myself clear?” Stone asked, and pointedly looked at Lindy.  “And I hope I also don’t have to let you know that business is closed for the night.  You all better hurry on home.”

 

The petite woman gave the detective a tight smile as she nodded.  As Stone turned around, Lindy shot a meaningful glare at Spencer causing the boy to flinch.  Spencer had hoped he had said enough (or said _little_ enough as Lindy would’ve liked it) to have pleased Lindy and to keep his job here.  When the cops had questioned him, he had lied through his teeth.  He said he knew nothing about the 911 call; hadn’t seen the body; and had no knowledge as to whether or not Lindy, or anyone else at the club, were attempting to remove the body.  He thanked his lucky stars that, although the rooms _were_ assigned to individual performers, there was nothing in there that could identify him.  And he had never been more thankful that the entirety of his duties at this club took place behind the safe protection of a glass pane because nothing that was in the viewing room could link him to the crime.  So, he hoped that was enough for Lindy not to come after him and make good on her threat to give him the boot. 

 

As he followed the throng of employees who were heading towards the prep room to pack up their things and leave for the night, he made sure not to meet anyone’s eyes.  Now that the police knew, his guilt had been lifted and Spencer decided he would leave it to them.  He wasn’t about to lose this job that he had worked so hard to find.  He was finally in a place where he felt at least _some_ semblance of safety.  He didn’t need to be anyone’s hero.  No one had been his.  He had learned it was best to just keep your head down and stay out of anyone else’s way. He wasn’t going to stray from that mantra anytime soon.

* * *

 Watching the motley assortment of ‘performers’ file out of the main stage room, Stone couldn’t help but sneer.  As an LVPD detective, he knew that a lot of what happened in Vegas was questionable, and things only got worse once one stepped into the realm of more sordid pleasures and pursuits.  He had heard things about _Mon Petit Chien_ but, truthfully, a place like this was low on his list of priorities.  He had bigger fish to fry in his city.  Sure, some of these performers looked suspiciously young, and he had heard reports of assaults, drug use, guns, and the like.  But the managers knew well enough to stay off his radar.  And as long as they did so, Stone didn’t have any cause to step foot into the red-wallpapered walls of this establishment.  Until now, that is.

 

Ruminating over the information his subordinate officer had given him, Stone cursed to himself.  _There was a cross branded into the back of the victim’s neck sir.  In addition to signs of choking, the blade used was similar to the other cases in the database.  The crime scene tech says she’s confident in saying it’s a signature._

 

As Detective Stone walked out of the building he quickly retrieved his phone and dialed a number.  Once the individual on the other side picked up he said only one thing, “Get me the FBI.”

* * *

A/N: Ok, yay, first chapter done! Sorry it was so much…Spencer and a bunch of people we don’t know yet. I’m just ‘setting the scene.’ Obviously, the fabulous BAU brigade will be introduced in the next chapter. Don’t worry if you’re unimpressed with the few named OC’s I threw in here, as well. They’re honestly not important and I don’t have much intention on developing these characters so I didn’t give much in the way of describing them here. They served a needed purpose of facilitating the discovery of the body, and if they are mentioned again they still won’t get any back story. Haha. It’s about Spencer &; Derek, guys!

And although I only gave some cursory descriptions of who Spencer is and the life he lives, don’t worry: more will be explained in detail as the story goes on. You haven’t missed anything. It was intentional. The real interesting things will start to happen next chapter. Yay!

Lastly, I’d love to hear what you guys are thinking so far. I have some really interesting places I’d like to take this story (it could actually be pretty lengthy), but sometimes we think we’re more interesting than we really are (haha), so I’d like to just hear from anyone who has anything to say about it.

Until next time!  
~WH~

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer** :  I do not own Criminal Minds.  It is the sole property of the CBS Corp.  This is a work of fiction and I am not making any profit from its publication.

A/N: Thank you to all of those who have read, reviewed and/or subscribed! I’m so happy you seem to like where I’m going and are looking forward to reading more. Means a lot :). But, now I’m nervous and don’t want to disappoint you all O__O. Haha!

I am also tossing the idea around in my head of maybe taking on a beta reader. Not for grammar/spelling, but specifically as someone to bounce things off of and see if my plot is progressing sensibly. Seriously, as I’m writing I keep thinking to myself “is this a gaping plot hole?” or “does this make sense?” Haha. So, I’m looking for someone who is a "good" writer, not necessarily a grammar Nazi. So, if you think you might be interested and have the qualifications, please drop me a private message.

Lastly, I just wanted to make a quick note about my update schedule and to say that… there isn’t going to be one. I can’t make any promises like “I’ll update every Sunday” or something because that puts too much pressure on me and I’ll feel like a jerk if I don’t deliver. What I will promise you though is that I’m writing this story pretty actively (basically, a chapter every two days so far) and had already written 3 chapters when I posted the first. So, I’ve set up a “schedule” for myself in that once I finish a new chapter (remember, 3 chapters ahead) I’ll post a new chapter.

Now, with that said, let’s continue!

~WH~

* * *

 

~One Week Later~

“Ok, everyone, we have a new case,” Agent Jennifer Jareau said as she briskly walked into the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s conference room, followed by Penelope Garcia, the Unit’s Technical Analyst.  While Garcia began passing out the case files, J.J. looked over the other four agents seated in the room as she picked up the remote and clicked the power button.

 

As Garcia took a seat at the round table, the room’s occupants all focused in on the images that quickly appeared on the large flat screen TV.

 

“I have been in communication with a Detective Ryan Stone of the Las Vegas Police Department after he contacted me a week ago with news that there had been a suspicious murder within the city limits.  Stone believed that the murder may be linked to a serial killer the Bureau’s been chasing for over five years now because of the very particular state of the body,” J.J. said as she clicked the remote again and an image of the victim’s body appeared on the screen.

 

“The victim has been identified as Victor LaRoux.  He was found murdered in a private viewing room at _Mon Petit Chien,_ a Vegas strip club.  LaRoux doesn’t seem to have a particularly murky past, but I have Garcia doing some digging on him to see if anything will give us an idea as to _why_ he was targeted.  What stands out most about this murder, however, is how the body was found.  The markings on his body are consistent with the Unsub the media has previously christened the “Judgment Maker.” J.J paused as she heard the murmurs of displeasure among her colleagues.

 

“As you can see,” she said as she clicked to an image that showed a close-up of the victim’s head, “a cross-mark was burned into the back of the victim’s neck.  As with the other cases that have been attributed to the Judgment Maker, the coroner is uncertain what kind of instrument was used to cause the burn, but she does know that it was done ante-mortem, similar to the Judgment Maker’s prior victims.  Furthermore, there were markings around the victim’s neck that are consistent with the theory that this Unsub chokes his victims before killing them, but that the choking is _not_ the cause of death.” J.J. said as she clicked to another image of slight bruising to the victim’s neck.

 

“Hmm, I remember hearing about this “Judgment Maker.” Agent Emily Prentiss began with a slight eye roll as she said the name, “He’s the guy who we think might use the choking to initially subdue the victim, or might be choking to satisfy some type of need-driven behavior, right?  I think one theory was that he chokes the victims until they confess to something he’s looking for.  Then, after he gets his answer, he completes his ritual by marking them and then stabbing them in the forehead?”

 

Confirming Emily’s words, J.J. clicked to another image showing a large knife handle protruding from the victim’s head.

 

“Most of you were not a part of the Unit when the Judgment Maker’s first kills began to surface,” Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner filled in. “He’s a somewhat prolific killer who crosses state lines and has significant dormant periods between kills.  So far we have had eight kills—that we know of—that fit the M.O of this killer spanning multiple states.  We have not yet been able to build much of a profile on this individual.  It seems that he is most likely not working at the direction of anyone else and seems to be a mission-oriented killer.  He kills quickly and stealthily, and no one has ever seen him during the commission of his crimes.  However, this current case is interesting to us because the Detective on the case believes someone may have seen the murder.”

 

“Why’s that?” Agent Derek Morgan asked, looking up at his Unit Chief with furrowed brows. “The report doesn’t seem to say anything about there being a complaining witness.”

 

“That’s where I come in, stud muffin!” Garcia piped in with a bubbly voice. “So, apparently this Judgment Maker guy usually kills in really secluded places, like in the house of a victim who lives alone, or in an abandoned parking lot; he even once killed someone in a church confessional late at night.  So no one’s ever been around to see him.  But this case is kind of different because he killed the current victim in a strip club that was relatively full of people.”

 

“Ok, so someone in the club must’ve seen something right?” Derek asked.

 

“Actually, that’s not exactly the case.  While the club was moderately full of regular customers, the murder took place in a private viewing room.” Hotch said as he nodded to J.J, who clicked the remote again, causing an image of a small room to appear on the screen.  The image showed what appeared to be a lighted and staged bedroom behind a glass window pane, a solitary chair placed directly in front of this window, and a door at the back of the room. 

 

“In reality, the owners of the club are claiming that no one was in the room at the time of the murder—not even the performer who was scheduled to meet with LaRoux.  In addition, the club doesn’t have any security cameras.” Hotch continued.

 

“Not surprising,” Senior Agent David Rossi said with a scoff. “I don’t know any “establishment” of this type that would want any kind of permanent record of what goes on inside its walls.”

 

Prentiss shot Rossi an amused look, causing the older agent to shrug unapologetically.

 

“Well, that’s where my skills have been put to use,” Garcia interjected. “Contrary to what the club’s management is saying, the detective on this case believes someone _did_ see what happened because a 911 call was received.”  J.J then clicked a button and the sound of a hushed, breathy whisper filled the room: _I’m at the Mon Petit Chien on B-Burgundy Drive. I-I think someone’s been murdered here.  You have to come! Quick!_   It was impossible to tell much about the person on the recording, even the person’s gender. 

 

“Of course, before any of you ask,” Garcia continued once the recording had ended, “ _yes_ the LVPD did try to trace the number from which the call originated but apparently the person who made the call used a phone that wasn’t on a traditional service plan.  It was one of those month-to-month type phones and there was no contract associated with it.  Basically, it came up like a burner phone. 

 

However, your magical tech-kitten-goddess-of-all things-knowable was able to back-trace who the owner is by digging into the numbers the person called the most.  I found some things like regular calls to the strip club, some bill-collecting agencies, and a number of takeout joints.  Using this information, I was able to narrow the owner of the phone number down to a certain geographical area and to someone who was more than just a customer at the strip club.  But, the most important little tidbit of information—and what made me able to deduce with certainty to whom the phone belongs—was that the majority of all the calls made from that phone were made to a Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas.

 

“The only person who is at _Mon Petit Chien_ regularly, lives within a 5 mile radius of the 6 regularly-called takeout places, has some serious debt issues and knows someone at the Bennington Sanitarium—namely his mother—is one Spencer Reid.  Please turn your attention to page 10 of your case files,” Garcia said smugly.

 

“Spencer Reid?” Derek said with confusion as he flipped to the page in question.  What stared back at him was little more than a blurry blown-up picture of a Las Vegas license, featuring the image of a somber youth with light brown hair.  He couldn’t make much of the image and returned his attention to the chipper analyst.

 

“So, who’s this kid and why is he the one who made the 911 call?” Rossi asked.

 

“Well, from the snooping I was able to do, it appears that Spencer Reid is a 19-year-old “employee” of this club.  Apparently he’s been working there for two years and it looks like maybe _he_ was the pretty little filly that our dead victim was going to see that night.  Since he made the call—and he’s the _only_ one who made a call—I’m thinking he was probably the first person to see the body.” Garcia offered.

 

The other agents in the room all muttered to themselves in agreement.

 

“Wait a second,” Derek said with a frown. “Did you say he’s been working there for _two_ years?”

 

“That I did, my dear,” Garcia said as she cringed, a frown forming on her red painted lips.  “You are both beautiful and brilliant, and ever observant.  Apparently Spencer here was working at this club since he was at _most_ 17.”

 

“How… is that possible?” Prentiss asked.

 

“Well, from what I could see of their business records…” Garcia quickly glanced at her supervisor who was giving her a stern look, “which, I…uh… shall not divulge to you how I gained access to those… Um, from the records it appears that the ID they have on file for him shows his age as currently actually being _21_.  But, I made sure to double-check.  Since the kid is a Las Vegas local and his birth record is on file he’s _definitely_ currently only 19. So, I dunno what you guys are going to do with that, but I’m guessing this business is involved in some shady dealings.”

 

“Well… if this individual was working there and he was underage, that is strictly a state law matter.  It doesn’t impact how we go about this case for the time being.  What’s most important is that this Spencer Reid character may be a vital material witness and we need to speak with him.  We have been chasing down this “Judgment Maker” for almost five years and if there’s any chance that Spencer Reid saw anything about the Unsub that could possibly lead us to him, it’s imperative that we know it.  We’re heading to Vegas.  Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said as he stood to his feet.

* * *

 After arriving in Vegas, Hotch was quick to divvy up duties.  He would stay at the precinct to begin setting up a relationship with the local police. Prentiss and Rossi were set to head over to the Medical Examiner’s Office to get a better look at the victim’s body.  And Morgan and J.J. were assigned to pick up Spencer Reid, who was currently working a shift at _Mon Petit Chien_.                  

 

Stepping out of their government-issue black Suburban, Derek and J.J. surveyed the scene around them as they approached the doors.  Although situated in the middle of a large parking lot that seemed to be surprisingly full for 4p.m. on a Monday afternoon, _Mon Petit Chien_ appeared to be a small building from the outside.   It was also noticeably nondescript in the services one would could hope to find inside, save for the little dogs and small windmills, ala _Moulin Rouge_ , painted on the doors.   There were no electric neon signs broadcasting “Live Nude Girls,” no “XXX” markers, or anything of the sort.  The two agents wondered to themselves how anyone _knew_ about the _Mon Petit Chien_ if they didn’t attempt to advertise.

 

Smiling stiffly at Derek and shrugging her shoulders J.J. said “Shall we?”

“Ladies first,” Derek said as he grabbed one of the doors and held it open for J.J.

The first thing they noticed when they stepped inside was that there was no “club” initially.  What lay before them were red-painted walls and a steep flight of stairs leading into a dark sub-level from which pumped bass-heavy music.

 

“Hmm, guess that explains why it looks so small from outside, huh?” J.J. asked as she placed her hand on the holstered weapon at her hip and began to descend the steps, unsure of what she’d find at the bottom.  Morgan followed behind her, doing the same. 

 

At the bottom of the steps they came upon a set of glass doors, in front of which stood a brawny-looking muscle-bound man in a tight black t-shirt, who was obviously serving the function of a bouncer.

 

Flashing their badges silently at the stoic man who nodded at them and pushed the door open slightly, the two agents walked into the club.  Immediately they were bombarded by the sights and sounds.  Their gazes took in the large room which stretched out in front of them, the plush gold and red carpets on the ground, the vintage-looking and well-stocked bar at the far-left of the room and the large black stage and catwalk which sat in the middle of the room.  The stage, currently empty, was adorned with light bulbs running its entire length and a tall gold pole at the end of the catwalk.

 

Scantily-clad women and men peppered the floor as they flirted and conversed with clients seated in plush velvet couches.  Waiters with trays full of drinks weaved briskly in between the assortment of furnishings as they hurried to deliver and take orders. 

 

There were probably about 60 people in the spacious room, and no telling how many others in unknown parts of the building. Derek and J.J. knew they would be there forever if they had to question every single patron and/or employee. Derek glanced at J.J. and nodded towards the bar.  J.J. nodded in agreement, seeing a tall man with dark, coiffed hair standing behind the bar and dutifully wiping glasses. The bartender was always the best source of information.

 

Moving away from their spot by the door and making their way through the throngs of people, J.J. and Derek quietly observed their surroundings.  This didn’t seem like an ordinary club.  Unlike an average strip club where the socioeconomic status would range from people barely able to manage the cover charge to get into the club, all the way to the “big spenders” who stunk of money, all the patrons here seemed to fall closer to the side of “wealthy.”  They all seemed well put-together and some wore noticeably pricey or high-end clothing, jewelry and shoes.  The employees, as well, while scantily clad were all better than above-average in the looks category, and seemed to have put quite a lot of effort into the maintenance of their hair, skin, nails and teeth.  This seemed to be a ‘select’ group.

 

Finally arriving at the bar where it was, thankfully, not as loud as on the main floor, Derek waved the bartender over.   Setting down the glass he had been cleaning the tall man strode over.  Glancing at Derek and J.J. and taking in their attire, the man’s brow furrowed.  Nonetheless he smiled at them and asked, “What can I get you two?”

 

Flipping out his badge, Derek simply responded, “Information.”

The bartender visibly cringed but didn’t seem to be making any plans to bolt, so Derek continued.

“Supervisory Special Agents Morgan and Jareau.” Derek said as he motioned to himself and J.J.  “We’re with the FBI.  First of all, I want to know what kind of business you guys are running here.”

“Hmm,” the man said as he shrugged and averted his light green eyes. “It’s just your average strip joint, Agents.  Vegas is well-known for them.”

“Your _average_ strip joint is never so busy in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday when there’s not even a single dancer on stage,” J.J. said, her voice showing her annoyance.  “Plus, all your clients seem pretty high-class here.  I wonder what it’ll do to them if we raid the place and all their names end up in the paper. No publicity is bad publicity, right?”

The dark-haired man paled.

“Hey, hey now.  We’re not doing anything illegal here.  So what if our clientele is a little high class?  They pay good money and we provide them with high class merchandise.  Doesn’t that just make sense?” he asked.

 

“What does a lap dance go for around here?” Morgan asked.

The bartender frowned, and looked at him uncertainly.  “I don’t know.  At least $100 a dance.”

Morgan whistled in surprise, causing J.J. to look at him.

“Is that a lot?” she asked.

“Hell yea!” Morgan said with a laugh.  “I’d go broke at a place like this. But…you wouldn’t get it.  Why don’t you just let us guys talk?” Morgan said as he gave a meaningful look to J.J.  Her eyes showed her understanding.  She then made a big show of rolling her eyes for the observant bartender.

 

“Fine, whatever.  Why am I not surprised that you would know something like that? You can be such a pig, Morgan.  I’m going to go try to get some _actual_ work done,” she said as she pushed away from the counter and made her way over to some waiters who were talking further down the length of the bar.

Once J.J. was out of sight, Morgan turned back to the bartender.  Hoping to turn his charm on the defensive-seeming man, Morgan smiled at him conspiratorially.

“So, my man, I hear they have some Grade-A private shows in this place.  You know, a place where it’s just you and a girl in a room and she’ll do whatever you ask for you?” Morgan questioned with a grin.

 

“Yea,” the bartender said as he leaned back a bit, appearing to be more relaxed now that J.J. was gone.  “They’re downstairs on the second-level.”

“How much does one of those sessions cost?” Morgan asked.

“Well, the standard half an hour rate is $300.  Then it’s more if you want…I guess we’d call it “ala carte” services.  You know, if you want them to get a little freakier?” the bartender said, mirroring Morgan’s grin.

Morgan made a show of glancing around the room and looking at the girls. He then whistled again. 

“And could I have my choice of who I wanted here?” he asked.

 

“Well, not all the workers here do the private rooms. Actually, it’s rare that someone works the main stage _and_ does the private shows.  The times overlap, you see?  Our main strip shows start around 9 and go til about 2 am. That’s the same time the private rooms have their sessions. We only have about 12 workers who do those shows, and they’re all in a book kept by our managers.  Only the real serious customers get to look at it, though.  And sorry to say, man, but you don’t sound like you could afford it,” the bartender said good-naturedly.

“Aw, man,” Morgan laughed, pretending to be wounded by the man’s comment. “Look, some of these women are just downright gorgeous.  And we men can always make something work if we want it badly enough, am I right?” Morgan asked as he waggled his eyebrows at the man, causing the bartender to laugh.     

“So, each room is basically assigned to a specific girl, right?” Morgan followed up.

A look passed across the bartender’s face and he paused before saying, “Well…girls _and_ guys, if you’re into that.  We’ve got about four regular guys who perform in addition to the girls.”

 

“Oh, I get it man. No problem.  It’s not like I couldn’t tell this club was equal-opportunity.  I’ve never seen so many dudes in short shorts before.  It was pretty obvious that the customers aren’t only interested in the girls here,” Morgan said as he shrugged. 

The bartender nodded in agreement.

 

“So, do me a favor here,” Morgan said as he glanced around the room, eyes only briefly lingering on J.J. who was chatting with a few girls in sparkly outfits, “where would I go to find someone named Spencer Reid?”

The bartender looked at Morgan in surprise and before Morgan could ask why, he heard someone slam something down on the counter next to him.

Turning to his right, Morgan saw a tall boy wearing nothing but a red bow-tie, black suspenders, and black shorts lean over the counter, a serving tray clutched in his arms, and say, “Hey, Jimmy, I need 3 martinis, two cosmos, and a club soda.”

 

Gesturing with his thumb, “Jimmy” said, “Spencer Reid? He’s right there?”

Upon hearing his name, and realizing Jimmy had paid him no attention, Spencer spun around and locked eyes with a tall, handsome, and clearly fit black man. Spencer stared at him, wondering who this man was and why he was looking for him.

 

Derek, on the other hand was quite surprised by what he saw.  The ID he had seen in his case file didn’t do the kid justice.  Messy-looking bangs and short hair, beautiful hazel eyes accented by what he thought was eyeliner, and a surprisingly plump-looking diamond-shaped mouth, were the first things his eyes laid sight on.  He couldn’t help the quick sweep his eyes took downward to take in the boy’s bare chest which was lightly dusted with some type of glitter and, while skinny, was defined with muscle-tone.  His eyes lingered momentarily on the small brown nipples that peeked out from behind the suspenders and then dipped lower to stare in surprise at the dangerously low pleather-like shorts.  His eyes couldn’t help but note that the kid also had long, equally toned, legs that disappeared into knee-high boots.  Quickly regaining his train of thought before he could wonder what the kid looked like from behind, he snapped his eyes up to lock on to the boy’s and cleared his throat.

 

Fishing out his ID, he flipped it open, displaying his credentials.  “You’re Spencer Reid?  My name’s Agent Derek Morgan and I’m with the FBI.  I’m going to need you to come with me and my colleague down to the LVPD to answer some questions.”

 

The boy’s eyes widened slightly, but Derek could also see tension form in his shoulders.

“What do you want with me? I already talked to the police.  I don’t have anything else to say.” He spat while locking a glare onto Derek.

Derek blinked in surprise, not expecting such a hostile response from what had, only moments ago, seemed to be a harmless kid.

 

Sighing, and signaling behind him without looking over his shoulder, Derek said, “We’re not the _police_ , kid.  We’re the FBI and we’ve got some different questions to ask you.”

Spencer watched with mild interest as a pretty, petite blond with large blue eyes appeared next to Agent Morgan.

She looked at him with intrigue but smiled once she caught his eyes.

“Hi, I’m Agent Jennifer Jareau, and you must be Spencer Reid, huh?” she asked kindly.  “I’m sure my colleague here explained to you that we need you to come down to the station to answer some questions, right? So, why don’t you and I go get your things and Agent Morgan here will explain to your boss that you need to leave work early, ok?”

 

Derek was surprised that as soon as J.J. appeared it seemed that the kid’s hackles had calmed back down and he looked at J.J. with what appeared to be contrition. 

“Um,” Spencer said, his voice now soft, “I… I’m really going to get in a crap-load of trouble if I leave work tonight.  Plus… it’s really going to be an inconvenience for me.  If I don’t work I don’t get paid…”

Derek was almost certain he had seen the kid blush.

J.J. smiled at the boy reassuringly and asked, “When is your shift over?”

Spencer bit his lip and said, “Well, I’m usually working until 2, but I really need to be here to prep for when my real shift starts at 9.”

It wasn’t lost on Derek that the boy had mentioned a “real” shift, and that the waiter role he was playing now probably wasn’t his entire job.  He’d put money on the bet that the real shift Spencer was referring to was most likely the peep show in which Spencer, he was almost certain, was one of the performers.

 

“Ok,” J.J. was saying, “Well, the sooner we get you in to the station and you answer our questions, the sooner you can come back, ok?”

Spencer made a face that seemed to say he felt like he really had no choice but to agree with J.J., so he nodded silently.

“Great.  So you have some clothes you want to change into before we go?” she asked him, as she gave his outfit a cursory glance. 

“Y-yea, I’ve gotta go to the prep room.” He told her, as he subconsciously crossed his arms over his bare chest.

“No problem. I’ll have to come with you, though, ok?” She told him. She then glanced at Morgan and said, “Make sure you square it away with his manager ok, and I’ll meet you back at the car.”

 

Morgan was about to protest but J.J.’s look seemed to tell him that she thought she’d do better with Spencer if she was on her own. Morgan frowned but shrugged his shoulders and said, “Ok, I’ll meet you out there. But be quick about it.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, after Morgan had had a particularly difficult conversation with the general manager on duty—a “Lindy Roth” who seemed more concerned about the lost revenue she’d suffer if Spencer wasn’t back on time than she was about the gravity of the fact that someone had been murdered within her business less than a week ago—he was standing outside by the Suburban waiting on J.J.

 

His ears perked up as he heard soft laughing and what he knew to be J.J’s distinct giggle. He watched as the two walked out of the club and was surprised by how relaxed Spencer seemed to be with J.J. He also couldn’t help but think to himself how surprised he was about how different Spencer looked in his ‘street clothes.’ A vast divergence from the scantily-clad individual he had seen mere moments before, the Spencer that strolled up to the vehicle was wearing faded baggy blue jeans, beat-up looking black Converses and a white t-shirt underneath a worn-looking gray cardigan.  He also had what looked to be a well-used leather satchel slung over his chest.  It wasn’t what he expected from an experienced exotic dancer. 

 

Looking up from J.J., Spencer met Derek’s eyes and gave him a dark look. Derek flinched and again wondered why the kid seemed so defensive around him.  He rolled his eyes however, and made his way around to the driver’s side of the car.  _I don’t have time for this kid’s shit,_ he thought to himself.  Opening the door and climbing in, he waited until Spencer and J.J. were situated before he turned the key in the ignition.  Backing out of the spot, and starting down the road, he listened in contemplative silence as J.J. and Spencer continued to chat. 

 

For a brief second he met Spencer’s eyes in the rear view mirror and noticed how quickly Spencer looked away.  _This kid’s an enigma_ , Derek thought to himself and continued on his way to the Las Vegas Police Department.      

* * *

A/N: Sorry to cut it short there. I had wanted to get into the interrogation in this chapter, but then I figured it was going to get pretty long. So I shall save that for chapter 3! If it isn’t apparent, I know very little about Vegas (I’ve only been there once and I did not spend my time skulking about strip joints lol) and I have no idea if they have “private showrooms” like the type that I’m describing anywhere in Vegas. So, if I seem to be talking nonsense, allow me some artistic license here haha.

Lastly, about the “BAU” and the timeline here: the only thing I’m keeping to is probably the differences in ages (I’m still not sure if I’m going to make Derek 8 years older than Reid (like in the show) or 10 years (like in real life, haha)). You guys can think of this group of profilers (people like J.J., Morgan, Prentiss) as relatively “new” to the BAU (maybe only working in the BAU for the last 2 or 3 years, since I want that to be somewhat consistent with a plausible FBI career (however the show does some pretty implausible things in this area, anyway). But Hotch and Rossi are still the seasoned professionals. And, yes, J.J is in her “profiler” role here, but I still see her acting as a liaison (I doubt she’ll be communicating with the press at all in this story, but I saw her liaising role as also being the one who gained the trust of victims/witnesses and made it easier to talk to the less-empathetic “profilers”). So, that’s the BAU-verse this story takes place in.

See you next time!

~WH~

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Criminal Minds.  It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Corp.  This is a work of fiction.  I am making no profit from its publication.

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews, favorites/subscriptions, and general support! :) And happy belated Chanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, and "Holidays" in general! At least I got this out before the New Year! Yay! Have a good (and safe) NYE to all of you who are going out.

Happy Reading!

xoxo

* * *

Derek Morgan stood silently next to his Unit Chief as they watched the interview that was just getting underway through the two-way mirror. Hotch had decided that J.J. and Prentiss should be the first to take a crack at the scrappy teen after seeing how relaxed the boy had seemed to be in J.J.'s presence.

"Hey, Spencer," J.J. said as she sat down and pushed a glass of cool water across the table to him.

"As I mentioned to you before my name is Agent Jennifer Jareau, but most of my friends call me J.J. I'd also like to introduce you to another colleague of mine, Emily Prentiss," J.J. said as she motioned toward the dark-haired woman who had also taken a seat across from Spencer.

Spencer shyly graced the two women with a small, forced smile.

"Spencer, we have a few questions to ask you about the murder that took place at your club about a week ago," Emily said, giving him a kind look.

Spencer looked down at his hands.

_I just need to stick with the story I gave the cops. Hopefully they'll just let me go once they realize I know nothing._ He thought to himself, and then glanced back up at the two kind-eyed women. His eyes shifted back down to his lap, and he felt a pang of guilt for lying to them, but  _they_  weren't going to pay his rent when he was out of a job...

"Yea… well, I heard about that happening." He said softly, eyes still trained on his clasped hands. "But, I wasn't there to see anything. So, like I told Ms. Jareau back at the club, I can't help you guys."

Emily and J.J. shared a perturbed look. Emily then placed a file softly down on the table, the soft sound in the otherwise silent room enough to cause Spencer to glance up.

"Well, Spencer, we all know that that's not quite true, is it? " Emily said, staring at the boy with her discerning dark eyes. "Someone made a 911 call that night, and we have a technical analyst who's very good at her job. She was able to find out, with certainty, that the person who made that call was  _you_."

Spencer's eyes widened at he stared at her. He then frowned.

_Shit, shit, shit_. He thought, panic quickly starting to set in.  _They know I lied and now I look even_ _ **more**_ _suspicious_.

"Ok… well, so what if I called? No one else was doing anything. I… I just figured that the police needed to be involved, you know?" Spencer said, quite defensively.

J.J. furrowed her brows.

"But, Spencer, did you feel like you had a responsibility to call because maybe  _you_  were the one who discovered the body?" she asked gently.

"No!" Spencer said adamantly. "I didn't see  _anything_. I just called because everyone was talking about it and  _someone_  needed to do something, ok? That's all."

Spencer then leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He purposefully avoided eye contact with the two agents, seeming to find the plain steel table suddenly fascinating.

Sensing that they were losing their once-compliant witness, the two women decided to change the subject.

"Ok, Spencer," J.J. began, putting her hands up in a placating gesture, and then clasping them in front of her, "why don't you just tell us a little about what happened that day? You know, like when you got to work, what you did, who you spoke to, etc."

Spencer glanced up at her and bit his lip. Averting his eyes for a second, he then leaned in and sighed.

"O-ok… So, I got to work as usual around 2pm. I was just serving drinks to customers all day. You know, like what you saw me doing at the club earlier..." He told her, his eyes flickering to hers and then quickly away.

J.J. blinked at him.

"So, that's all you do there? You're just a waiter?" she asked him.

Spencer blushed a bit and dropped his eyes to his lap. He couldn't bear to have them look at him with disgust and judgment, like he was some kind of whore. He didn't want them to know what he really did at the club and there was no reason he had to tell them.

"Yes. I mean, I don't…strip on a pole or anything, if that's what you're asking…" he mumbled.

_Not exactly a lie_ , he thought to himself, as he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

Emily and J.J. exchanged another look, before looking up at the two-way mirror and shaking their heads. They weren't born yesterday and knew that, for some reason, Spencer was reluctant to be forthright with them. He had a lot of tells—one of which they were currently observing as he absentmindedly nibbled on his bottom lip. However, they hoped that with a bit more prodding, and if they somehow got him to relax, he would open up.

"Ok, so tell me about the people you talked to that day," Emily continued.

* * *

"He's lying," Hotch said flatly as he observed the interview in progress. Morgan nodded silently in agreement. They hadn't needed the signals from Emily and J.J. to pick up on that. Everything about the boy's body language, lack of eye contact, and defensiveness showed that he was hiding something.

"I don't think this kid had anything to do with the actual murder, but I'm not sure  _why_  he's hiding what he knows. It's obvious to me that he likes J.J. and Prentiss, but his eagerness to have them like  _him_  seems to be making him somewhat embarrassed about his profession. You don't think he's  _just_  a waiter, do you?" Hotch asked Morgan.

"Nope," Morgan said as he picked up their ever-growing case-file, recently supplemented with additional information about the boy in question. "I talked to one of the bartenders there before the kid showed up and it seems like there are 4 men who perform in the private rooms. Although Spencer was only serving drinks when we got there, the bartender made it clear to me that none of the racy stuff really kicks off until after 9. When we were getting him ready to leave, Spencer made J.J. promise to get him back to the club before 9 so he could prepare for his "real shift." And he just told J.J. he doesn't strip on the poles, so, yea, I'd say he's trying to hide that from them."

"Hmm," Hotch said as he continued to watch the interview in front of him stoically, "it doesn't help us if his major concern is trying to give them a good impression of him. We need someone who can…'persuade' him to tell the truth, no matter how sordid it may be."

Morgan glanced at the older man, with a raised brow.

"I'm guessing you intend for  _me_ to be that 'persuasion,' huh?" he asked sardonically.

Hotch smiled slightly and looked at Morgan out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, don't tell me you're surprised?" he asked.

Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Nah, not surprised. But, I'd be lying if I said that the kid has warmed up to me. Every time he looked at me I was reminded of a cat who was preparing to hiss." Morgan explained, slight amusement entering his voice.

"Hmm," Hotch said after a moment of contemplation. "Well, that can be something we can work with as well. And now that you have the additional information Garcia has been able to pull up on him, I'm sure you can use it to put some 'pressure' on him."

"Got you," Morgan said as he gripped the thick file in his hand and nodded at his superior.

Thinking back on the nasty looks Spencer had given him, Morgan felt that "hissing cat" had been a very fitting description. Spencer's wide eyes, soft pale face, and pouty lips made his age so much more apparent—he appeared almost cherubic. But when those eyebrows furrowed, and anger flashed in those honey-colored eyes, Morgan could see that the kid could be a force to be reckoned with—when he wanted to be.

But for the life of him, Morgan couldn't understand what about  _him_ , in particular, set the kid off. It couldn't be merely that Spencer was a "fuck Authority" type of kid because he seemed fine with J.J. and they both worked for the Government. And he knows he couldn't have possibly said anything to have offended Spencer during their brief encounter. He had barely said two sentences to him before the kid had bristled. Rolling his eyes, Morgan knew getting anywhere with Spencer would be an uphill battle. But he also knew he was stubborn enough to keep pushing until he got what he wanted.

Morgan's attention was drawn back to the interview taking place in front of him as Hotch rapped twice on the glass pane, signaling to the other two agents inside the interview room. The two men watched as Prentiss and J.J. explained to Spencer that they needed to step away for a moment. The boy smiled politely at them and nodded his understanding.

As the two agents exited the room, Hotch and Morgan watched with interest as the smile slowly faded from the boy's face, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes dropped back down to his lap. This was a different Spencer.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Agent Derek Morgan walked into the small interrogation room. Glancing up at the sound of the opening door, Spencer's body language changed as he took in the sight of the older, mocha-skinned male. He hadn't taken much time to take stock of the attractive, self-assured agent when he had first come across him in the club. Eyes sweeping over the muscular man's body, he took note of the dark, charcoal-gray button down and black tie he wore, accompanied by black slacks. Everything was well-fitted and seemed to be of good quality. Even the man's goatee was perfectly trimmed. Obviously, he took pride in his appearance.  _Everything_  about him—down to the cologne he wore—screamed alpha-male. Bristling, almost unconsciously, Spencer sat up straighter and followed the man with his eyes, the same way wary prey would watch a predator.

As Spencer was watching Morgan, so too was Morgan watching Spencer. Spencer looked tense, and now that he was under brighter lights, the agent could see more clearly that there were dark circles under the boy's eyes. He was still wearing the dark eye liner, and Morgan could see errant traces of whatever glitter he had brushed on his body clinging to the boy's cheeks. These remnants of his club persona, which fit the boy so enticingly in the heady atmosphere of the club, now seemed so out of place with the persona that Spencer was reflecting now. The boy in front of him looked like he was late for a study hall meeting, not like he had moments before been playing a sex kitten.

Tearing his eyes away from the guarded-looking youth, Morgan purposefully ignored the boy as he sat down and began to dissemble the case file, pulling out reports, pictures, and other information that he would use to aid him in cracking the kid in front of him. Out of the corner of his eyes, Morgan could see Spencer shifting slightly as he tried to see what was on the sheets laid out in front of the agent. It was apparent that his inability to see frustrated Spencer. After a few more moments of nothing but the sound of shuffling papers filling the room, Spencer spoke up.

"So… what happened to J.J. and Emily?" he asked nonchalantly.

_He doesn't seem scared of me,_ Derek thought to himself,  _but he obviously isn't pleased about my presence_.

"Oh, so they're 'J.J.' and 'Emily' to you?" Morgan asked flatly as he finally looked up, meeting the younger man's eyes.

Spencer's face heated up, and his brows lowered into a glare. Morgan couldn't help but think that what the boy probably assumed was a threating façade in actuality was more akin to a petulant child pouting. If the kid wasn't being so difficult, Derek would have thought it was cute.

"Is this supposed to be the Fed version of "good cop, bad cop?" If so, I'd much prefer the ladies," Spencer said giving Morgan a deadpan look.

Derek scoffed at the boy's attitude, and returned an equally scathing look.

"I introduced myself to you before as Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan.  _Agents_  Prentiss and Jareau have stepped out to deal with other pressing matters. So I will be continuing the rest of this interview," Derek explained.

Spencer sat back in his chair, and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at Derek with an unimpressed expression. Derek knew that look well. He had seen it from a multitude of individuals, ranging from cops, witnesses, crooks, and even victims. It screamed, "I'm going to be difficult." But, Derek knew how to be difficult, too.

"First off," he said, ignoring Spencer's dismissive attitude, "you're lying about being a waiter at  _Mon Petit Chien_. We looked at your financials and you make an average of $3400 a month. There's no way you'd make that purely on tips by waiting tables alone."

The transformation that took over Spencer's face upon hearing that news was almost instant.

"What the  _fuck_!?" he snarled, "You people have been snooping through my financial information?"

Spencer couldn't believe how sneaky they had all been. And he couldn't help but wonder if J.J. and Emily had known all this too. He suddenly felt a pang of betrayal. Even though he didn't know the women, he had expected more from them…hadn't expected them to disappoint him like everyone else tended to do.

Derek ignored the outburst and outraged expression on the kid's face as he read over the bank statements in front of him. From what Garcia had been able to gather, he knew exactly what the boy did with his income. He spent $600 a month on rent for a tiny, dilapidated apartment on the seedier side of town. But the majority of his monthly income went to paying for his mother's care at the Bennington Sanitarium; a cost that ran him nearly $2400 a month. Other than that, Spencer lived on almost nothing and didn't even own a car. It was actually quite sad, Derek found himself thinking.

"We're the FBI, Spencer," Derek said looking back up into the boy's angry eyes. "And this is a Federal investigation. We have the right to look into the history of potential suspects."

Spencer's eyes widened at the word "suspect," and he felt his stomach drop.

"Y-you think  _I_  had anything to do with…" he trailed off in shock.

"Tell me about what you do at the club," Derek said, ignoring the look of panic on the boy's face. "You made it clear to Agent Jareau that you don't strip on the main stage. So, would I be correct to assume you're one of the private showroom boys?" Derek asked, keeping his expression impassive as he studied Spencer's face.

Again, Spencer's face blossomed red at the mention of his profession, but this wasn't the same coy and shy blush he had showed when J.J. had talked with him. This was more a blush of anger and embarrassment. All Spencer could think was that this man was here to humiliate him—to rub into his face that he debased himself for money. Spencer felt anger boiling in his gut.

"I don't see why what  _I_  do is any of your fucking business-" Spencer began, heatedly, but his words were cut short as Derek slammed his hand on the table, causing the boy to jump and stare at him with wide eyes.

"It's MY business if you stood in your little glass palace and watched a man be murdered and did  _nothing_  about it! If you're  _not_  the killer, then I will definitely have them charge you with obstruction of justice, in the  _least_." Derek threatened, locking his dark eyes on to the wide-eyed boy.

"Obstruction of justice?" Spencer asked, incredulous. " _I'm_  the one who called the fucking police!"

Spencer's eyes widened at his admission. He then snapped his mouth shut and looked off to the side, angrily. This agent was bringing out the worst in him. Usually, Spencer kept to himself and kept his head down; only speaking when he  _had_ to. Things were easy that way. But, now, he couldn't keep his cool and he was spouting off, saying things he knew he would later regret.

"Spencer, we need to know what you saw. It's not enough to say you were being a Good Samaritan and called it in after the fact. We think you  _did_  see something. And anything you remember—no matter how small it is—could really help us in catching this guy…. This isn't the first time he's done it, kid," Derek said, lessening the severe tone in his voice. He hoped he could appeal to the boy's conscience. He watched as Spencer glanced up at him, surprise evident on his face.

"So far, he's killed 8 other men—that we  _know_  of. He's a bona fide serial killer, and until we catch him no one's safe. So, if you're scared for some reason and don't want to tell us what you saw because you think someone will retaliate against you, or maybe someone's threatened to hurt you, you can trust in us that we can, and will, protect you.  _I'll_  protect you." Derek told him sincerely.

Spencer scoffed at this entreaty. Yet another cocky man trying to give him false promises. People always lied. And Agent Morgan was no different.

"Protect me? Yeah right." Spencer spat, locking eyes challengingly with the older male. "People like you aren't interested in protecting me. So, you want to know what I have to say to all  _that_ bullshit? FUCK. You."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Derek barked at him, causing Spencer to flinch.

The boy became silent but a different kind of darkness passed over his eyes. Spencer was more guarded now than Derek had ever seen.

"Don't you  _dare_  talk about my mother," Spencer warned, seething.

Derek paused, realizing he had found an opening. His conscience didn't necessarily want him to go down this route, but he needed the leverage.

"Hmm, well," he said as his fingers ran over one of the documents laid out before him, "what  _would_  Diana Reid have to say about this? I'm sure your mother doesn't know how you make your bread. But, you know, we need all the information we can get, and so when we go to talk to her—and we  _will_  have to talk to her if you don't cooperate, Spencer—I can't guarantee that we won't have to explain to her what her coward of a son has been doing with his time. It's probably for the best that she's been committed to the Bennington Sanitarium… she doesn't have to look at what you've become," Derek said, feigning sympathy.

Derek watched Spencer silently as the boy's shoulders tensed and his lips curled back in a snarl. In the blink of an eye, Spencer was on his feet, hands slammed down on the table and looking like he was ready to lunge across the table at Derek.

"Stay away from my mother, you son of a bitch!" he screamed. "Don't you dare say anything to her! I swear to God, don't you dare!"

Derek held up a hand to the two-way mirror, sure that his supervisor was moments away from storming in to the interview room to subdue the erratic boy. Spencer's eyes were flashing, his face red with anger, and tension rolled off his body in waves. But, Derek was sure he could handle this, and after a few moments with no interruptions from Hotch (and nothing more than the sound of Spencer's heavy breathing), Derek continued.

"Take a seat, Spencer." Derek said firmly. "I don't  _want_  to involve your mother. I know you're actually a good kid. You've never been arrested, never had a ticket—hell, you've never even had a late fine from the library. And while I don't know how you ended up where you are now, I know where you're  _from_  and who you were before this. I know you're a certifiable genius, with an IQ of 187, and that you graduated from high school here in Vegas at only twelve-years-old. And I know how much you sacrifice every day to take care of your sick mother. You take  _really_  good care of her and you should be proud of yourself, kid."

Although looking at Derek warily, and still with a high degree of distrust, Spencer seemed to have been somewhat placated by Derek's words and slowly lowered himself down into his seat.

"But, Spencer," Derek continued, "I think your mother would be disappointed if she knew you knew something that could save another person's life and you kept that information to yourself."

Not meeting Derek's eyes, Spencer was quiet for a moment as he chewed thoughtfully at his lip and played with the hem of his t-shirt.

_He's trying to manipulate me_ , Spencer thought to himself. But, he also couldn't deny the truth to the agent's words. When had he become such a coward… and so jaded? He had always prided himself on trying to be his mother's superhero. When his dad left… and then when his mom's condition steadily began to get worse… And here he was, faced with an opportunity to help the authorities put a stop to a sadistic killer—the kind of job he would've dreamed of having when he was younger, and before all the problems… But all he was trying to do now was run away. He knew he was being selfish, but getting involved was  _scary_. Spencer had always been risk-averse, and getting involved with the FBI would just bring a lot of problems. Unless he could get some guarantees.

"I…I can't afford to lose my job," he said suddenly as he turned wide honey-colored eyes on to Derek. "B-but, Mr. Victor wasn't one of the bad ones….a-and I think he deserves to have his killer caught."

"Ok," Derek said. "First off, why do you think you'll lose your job?"

"Ah…" Spencer stalled as he pulled his bottom lip back into his mouth, drawing Derek's eyes momentarily to the plump lip.

"I just… please, you have to promise you won't try to charge my boss with anything." The boy pleaded.

Derek's brows furrowed and he glanced briefly towards the two-way mirror.

"Did someone tell you not to report the murder, Spencer?" he asked the boy.

"She… well, she didn't think it'd do anyone any good if he was found inside. So she wanted to take him outside, but… she didn't want me to call the police. She didn't do anything wrong. And no one at the club was involved with what happened to him!" Spencer explained.

"Ok, ok. Relax. Before we get to that point, tell me what  _you_  saw. And, please, use as much detail and tell me everything you can think of. Even the smallest thing could be important." Derek prodded.

Spencer sighed and gripped the table tightly. Looking down at his hands, he began to speak.

"It was… horrible. I was…um… I was preparing the room for the next session," he said, a slight blush forming on his cheeks, "w-when I saw movement from the other side of the curtain. Th-there's sometimes a little gap where the two sides don't quite meet. I was a little annoyed because I didn't think anyone would be in there so early… b-but when I went to go see what was going on…"

Spencer stopped and took in a deep shuddering breath. Seeing that the boy was struggling with the images in his memory, Derek leaned over and lightly placed his hand over the boy's white-knuckled one. This seemed to snap Spencer out of his reverie, and he quickly slid his hand out from underneath Derek's, clasping both his hands in his lap. He offered the agent a weak smile in exchange and continued.

"I…I saw the back of a tall man in a dark or black trench coat. I couldn't really understand why he'd be wearing something like that… it's so hot here, you know? But, um, he was strange. I think he was probably White, with very dark hair, cut short. I think he looked muscular from what I could tell and not particularly old.

And…he had some kind of tattoo on his neck? I could only see just a glimpse of it, but it was something that looked like swirls, maybe… For some reason, the tattoo seems familiar, but I know I didn't recognize him. He wasn't anyone I had ever seen before at the club. And…b-before I could blink he… he w-was raising his arm, and I saw something like metal. And then he sw-swung it down hard, and… ugh, oh  _God_ … he stabbed Mr. Victor in the head," Spencer said through gasps.

Derek watched the shaking boy, impressed that he hadn't succumbed to tears.

"Ok, Spencer, you did great. All that information will be really helpful to us," Derek told him.

"Yea?" Spencer asked, clearly not believing the agent, but glad that the man had distracted him form the images that had been called back to the forefront of his consciousness.

"You can't even begin to imagine. No one's ever seen this man before so now, thanks to you, we have so much more information about him." Derek said, flashing the boy a full grin.

Spencer flushed.

"What? But I only saw him from behind. I have no idea what his face looks like or what he sounds like or anything," he said as he furrowed his brow, confusion evident on his face.

"We know his race, approximate height, and that he has a distinct tattoo. We didn't have any of that before, and these can all help us track him down. You've been a big help, Spencer, believe me. I'm going to have you go sit with one of our sketch artists for a little bit so you can describe to him better what you saw, and then we'll have someone take you back to the club, ok?" Derek asked as he got to his feet.

Spencer nodded at him silently, seeming to be once again lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

Seated around the conference table provided to them by the Las Vegas Police Department, the five agents discussed the facts of the case.

"Well, we definitely learned some interesting things through the little he was able to tell us about the Unsub," Hotch was saying.

"I noticed something interesting," Derek offered, "Spencer mentioned something about the Unsub's attire and that it was strange for the man to be wearing a black trench coat in this heat. It just crossed my mind that the Unsub may have worn that coat specifically  _because_  he intended to kill in a populated place and knew he needed to be concealed to get out unobserved. I wonder if he chose a black trench because blood stains would not be as noticeable on that type of fabric. Although the strip club is a variation from his usual locale, I think this wasn't an opportunistic kill. The trench coat, plus the knife and whatever he used to brand the victim with tells me that he planned to kill this man, and he didn't  _care_  that it was in such a populated place."

"You're right," Emily said as she nodded. "This man definitely puts thoughtful planning into all his kills. And he doesn't make mistakes. It's not by chance that he's gone unobserved this whole time during his other killings. So, even though the strip club was a much more populated place than the locations of any of his previous kills, it can't be a coincidence that he committed the murder in a  _private_  viewing room that has no cameras and is only assigned to one individual. This is in  _addition_  to the fact that he performed it in the lull time in between sessions when the performers clean their rooms. Spencer even said it's uncommon for clients to be waiting there that early, so I'm thinking the Unsub must've lured our victim to get there early—maybe for a meeting or something? If so, that seems pretty damn planned to me. I just can't understand why he'd kill in a strip club of all places."

"That  _is_ strange," J.J. said. "But, for whatever reason, this Unsub chose this specific club. So he must be somewhat familiar with its schedule. And this club doesn't seem to be something that any average Joe off the street would know about. When Morgan and I were talking to the bartender we learned that the 'services' provided at this place are pretty high-priced. So, I'm wondering if this is one of those "word of mouth," you have to "know somebody" to get in types of places, or even if it's maybe by invite only?"

"Good point, J.J. That should be something we look into. Garcia?" Hotch asked, as he leaned over the phone that was sitting in the middle of the table.

"Yes, sir?" the tech's voice sounded over the speaker.

"Look into how patrons find out about this club and if there is any documented guest or member list," he instructed her.

"Right away, sir! I'll let you know what I find out ASAP," she said, and they heard the other line click.

The other agents murmured amongst themselves as they perused the case files until Emily let out a loud sigh drawing everyone's attention to her.

"I'm glad Spencer finally came clean," she said as she sipped at her coffee, "but, God, that must've been horrible to have to watch that happen. And worse yet that he wanted to report it but  _management_ told him not to."

Rossi nodded his agreement. "Yea, the kid seems pretty shaken up, but there's still something odd about how he's processing it. Like, he's compartmentalizing it in some way. It looked as if he had never even let himself really think about it until he was relating it to Morgan a few minutes ago."

"His story's so sad," J.J. said with a sad frown. "From what his file tells us, he's brilliant and was working towards a double-major bachelor's degree when he just dropped out at age 15. He was in his final semester and had so much potential. Apparently he was even expected to start a PhD program right after finishing up his undergraduate but since  _that_  never happened, neither did the PhD. I wonder what happened to lead him to…  _this_ …"

Derek sighed dejectedly. He was feeling just as bad for the kid as his colleagues. But, in addition to the generally unfortunate state of Spencer's circumstances, Derek had a needling feeling that there was much more to this kid's story but that Spencer was hiding it. There were just certain things—the way he seemed to almost indiscriminately become attached to some people, like J.J. and Emily, but seemed highly distrustful of others, like Derek himself. And it didn't go unnoticed by Derek how Spencer had seemed to really dislike his attempt to comfort him by laying his hand on top of the boy's. Working in a profession like his, Derek would assume the boy would be used to being touched. Something just seemed… off. But, he supposed it wasn't his job to find out what made Spencer Reid tick. In reality, the boy's past had little, if anything, to do with the case at hand. He felt like that was going to be something he would have to continue to remind himself.

"Agent Morgan?" a uniformed female officer said as she knocked on the door gaining everyone's attention. "The sketch artist is done with that witness now. It's kind of amazing what he was able to remember about that tattoo he saw. Like he has a photographic memory or something. The artist was able to get a really good sketch. Anyway, the witness said someone told him he'd be given a ride back to his job. Do you want one of us to handle it?"

Derek quickly looked around the room at his other colleagues and got to his feet.

"You know what? Thanks, but let me handle it, ok?" he offered as he began to shrug on his jacket.

Hotch looked at his subordinate with interest, but merely nodded his consent and Morgan was out the door.

* * *

The ride back to  _Mon Petit Chien_ was a silent one. Derek had offered to personally drive Spencer back to the club because he had thought that the boy had come to trust him a bit. He wouldn't go so far as to say the kid liked him and now they could hang out and discuss the Chicago Bulls, but at least he thought he was safe in saying Spencer no longer saw him as a "threat." But, now, he wasn't so sure.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spencer hunched up against the passenger seat window, back to Morgan, staring listlessly out into the rainy night. His body language seemed as if he wished he were anywhere but there at the current moment.

_He obviously doesn't seem like he wants to be stuck in this car with me, but, at least he doesn't seem nervous or afraid_ , Derek thought to himself. He'd take that as progress.

As Derek pulled into the parking lot of the club, he quickly pressed the lock button before the boy could hightail it out of the car. Shocked, Spencer whipped around to look at him with wide, confused eyes, body tensed and alert.

"Relax," Derek said as he put his hands up non-threateningly. "I just want to talk to you for a few minutes and I could tell that you looked like you wanted to jump out the car as soon as I parked."

Spencer pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but the tension slipped out of his shoulders and he looked at Derek expectantly.

Derek had to suppress a smile. The kid definitely wasn't afraid of him. If anything, it seemed like he saw Derek as some type of huge inconvenience.

"So…for right now my boss has decided he's not going to pursue anything with your managers about the obstruction charge." Derek said and watched as Spencer visibly perked up.

"I can't say anything about whether Detective  _Stone_  will pursue it on a state level or not. If he does, it's out of our hands. But, for the time being, we haven't exactly let him know that that's what you told us, ok?" Derek asked, hoping this would be enough to appease him. He didn't want Spencer thinking they had tried to trick him.

Spencer shrugged and nodded.

"Next," Derek continued as he reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet. "I want to talk to you a bit more about what I said about protecting you."

Spencer followed Derek's hands with his eyes as the agent reached into his wallet and produced a business card. Handing over the small, white card to the boy, Derek continued.

"This is my number. If for any reason you feel uncomfortable at work—whether it's your coworkers, customers, or anyone else trying to hassle you, you let me know. If for some reason you think you recognize the man you saw that night back at the club again, you let me know  _immediately_. If anything bothers you, or you feel something's weird, just  _call_  me. I'm serious Spencer, no matter how dumb you may think it is, and whatever time of the day or night, you can call me. Our first priority is to keep you safe, kid. You did a really brave thing by telling us the truth and we don't take that lightly." Derek said, making sure he caught Spencer's eyes so that the message would be drilled home.

Unsurprisingly, Spencer averted his gaze and dropped his eyes down to his hands. He toyed with the card in his hand, reading the words and numbers in silence, and seeming to study them. But after a few moments, and with a sigh, he looked back up at the agent, whose dark eyes seemed to be imploring him to rely on him.

"Ok," Spencer said simply, making proper eye contact for once. "…Thanks."

Derek couldn't contain his grin.

Without another word, Spencer pushed up the lock on his door and stepped out of the car.

Derek watched as the boy disappeared into the dark building, wondering if he would really be ok.

* * *

_~3:15 a.m.~_

Derek groggily rolled over in his hotel room bed as he was jostled out of his sleep by the incessant ringing of his cellphone. Blindly reaching out to the bedside table and grabbing around in search of the phone, Derek's hand finally landed on the object of his current ire.

"Hello?" he asked gruffly as he glanced at the alarm clock.

"U-uh… Agent Morgan?" he heard a soft voice come from the other line.

"This is Morgan," he said, suddenly more awake, and wondering why that voice sounded familiar. "Who's this?"

"Um… it's Spencer… uh, Spencer Reid? From earlier. Um, you said I could call you if anything… 'weird' happened, and I don't know if this is the type of thing you meant, so…" Spencer rambled off.

"Hey, hey. Kid, it's ok. I said you could call me about anything. So, what happened?" Derek asked, sitting up in bed and flicking on the bedside table lamp. He was more than a little surprised to be receiving a call from Spencer. He had assumed the boy would've just tossed the card away as soon as he was out of his eyesight. But something was obviously amiss. The youth's voice contained none of his previous biting sarcasm. He seemed genuinely interested in the agent's help.

"I just got home a little while ago and there was a box outside of my door." Spencer began. "I didn't pay much attention to it and went to take a shower and stuff, but when I finally opened it, there were flowers inside."

"Ok?" Derek asked.

"…and there was a note." Spencer responded. "The note said: 'You were watching me, and now I'll be watching you.'"

Jumping out of his bed, Derek said, "Stay where you are, kid. We're on our way."

* * *

A/N: So this story is feeling way more like a crime drama than I ever intended it to! I never thought I'd write a "case fic" and really was just using the Unsub story as a way to develop a relationship between Spencer &; Derek. I didn't even think out my killer's M.O. that much until I started writing… But, as of right now, all I seem to be doing is developing the case. I dunno why I find this type of stuff so fascinating (maybe it's because I used to be a criminal law attorney (such a bad life decision, lol), but I find it hard to describe the facts of a case shoddily).

Anywho, from the next chapter on (hopefully) the story will give less focus to the "Judgment Maker" as a character and more on the development of some MoReid. I'm excited about that. Are you? ;)

xoxo


	4. Chaper Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.  It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Co.  This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.

A/N: As usual, thanks again for everyone's comments and favorites/subscriptions. It's a pleasure to hear from you and I'm glad to see you guys are all enjoying it :). Most people seemed to actually want me to stick with giving equal attention to the Unsub story (O_O), so I'll try my best to make that good for you guys. I guess this is officially now a 'case fic.' Also, I finally got my beta-reader, so I'd like to thank Eskimita for being such a helpful sounding board! Now back to the DRAMA!

~WH~

* * *

It was a quarter to 6 a.m. and the five-member team of BAU agents stood tiredly assembled around the tiny living room of Spencer Reid's one-bedroom apartment. The boy in question was currently huddled in a corner of his old, lumpy couch, nestled under a fleece throw, which had been pushed on him at J.J.'s insistence upon seeing how tired he had looked when they first arrived. Lost in their postulations and hypotheses, the agents didn't seem to be paying him much attention, so he listened with curiosity as they discussed the case and how the unexpected gift played a role in it.

There hadn't been much that they had been able to gather from the gift left for the boy. The package had consisted of half a dozen long stem red roses left in an inconspicuous long white box. There were 15 other tenant-occupied units in the building and the agents had gone (quite apologetically) door to door to see if any of the neighbors had seen or heard anything. Unfortunately, no one had, and there were no security cameras in the old building. There was no doorman and it seemed that most of the people who lived in that building were quite dedicated to living their lives with their heads down. They had also asked a member of the Crime Scene Unit to see if there were any prints or fibers that could be lifted from the box, but none were found.

Garcia had tried to see if there was any information that could be used to find where the flowers were at least purchased, but everything about the gift was ordinary. There was no wrapping paper, no commercial insignias, and nothing to even indicate how long the package had been sitting at the boy's front door. The team concluded that the Unsub probably hand-delivered the package. He wouldn't have been sloppy enough to leave a paper trail by having a floral company do it for him. Nor would he have been unaware that there were no functioning security cameras in the building. And it wasn't surprising to any of them that the man had worn gloves while handling the package.

Hanging up his phone after having given Garcia some additional leads to follow up on, Hotch turned to his team. Everyone looked tired, but more than anything, they were  _frustrated_. It was rare that they would be chasing an Unsub who they knew  _nothing_  about, and even rarer to find one that was bold enough to continue to act right under their noses like this.

"Alright everyone, I don't think there's much more we can do here. I'll let you all head back to the hotel for a few more hours of sleep, then we'll regroup at the precinct and see where we'll go from there," Hotch announced.

The agents nodded and murmured amongst themselves as they began to gather their bags.

Sighing to himself, Derek sat down on the arm of the kid's beat-up old couch and turned the white card around in his fingers again. Glancing at the words printed there, he felt that they could literally mean  _anything_.

"'You were watching me, and now I'll be watching you,'" he read out loud, gaining the attention of the other agents and the boy who was curled up on the couch behind him, trying, unsuccessfully, to fight sleep.

"Chances are it  _is_  the Unsub, but what if Spencer has other "admirers?"" Derek asked, glancing at the sleepy-eyed boy. "Because the person went to so much trouble to make the package as plain and un-personalized as possible, I'm just not sure we can say for certain that it's the Unsub, at the exclusion of others."

"N-no one from the club knows where I live," Spencer mumbled, sitting up a bit more.

Turning around to look at the tired youth, Derek sighed.

"I know you'd like to think that, kid, but people can find out whatever information they want if they look hard enough or are willing to pay for it," he explained. "Can you think of any past clients who were especially fond of you? It'd be helpful if we can get a list to weed them out, just in case this isn't related to our case."

Spencer looked around the room, and could see five pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly.

Sighing and pulling the throw he had laid over himself up to his nose, Spencer mumbled, "There isn't anyone  _like_  that."

Derek furrowed his brow and seemed ready to fight the kid on the topic, and explain to him that this wasn't the time to be embarrassed, but J.J. intercepted him.

"You know what, everybody? It's really late, and Spencer hasn't slept at all tonight. Why don't we let him get some rest and if he thinks of any names he'll tell us in the morning. Does that sound good to you Spencer?" she asked as she smiled at the boy. Spencer nodded quickly from under the blanket.

"And you have a day off from work tomorrow, right? I'm sure the rest and relaxation will help you think clearer. And you know how to reach us if there's anything you need us to know," J.J. told him.

"Why don't you head to bed now, Spencer? We'll make sure everything is in order out here and we'll lock up behind ourselves," Emily said as she motioned to the boy.

Nodding, Spencer groggily got to his feet and the agents couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he stumbled.

"See, you're really tired, kid," Rossi pointed out.

Spencer gave them a slight smile as he began to make his way to the bedroom at the back of the apartment.

"Hey, Hotch? Don't you think someone should stay here? I have no problem doing it," Derek said standing up.

Spencer turned around with furrowed brows and opened his mouth to protest, but Hotch quickly silenced both of them.

"No, Agent Morgan, that won't be necessary. We have an unmarked cruiser stationed out front. If anyone comes, the  _officer_  can handle it. There's no reason to think the Unsub would be so bold as to act when Spencer's here." Hotch explained, locking eyes with Derek. Derek seemed dissatisfied with this solution, but decided to keep his mouth shut.

Nodding at the agents sleepily, Spencer mumbled out a "thanks," and "g'night," before he shuffled to the back. Everyone was silent until they heard the soft "click" of the bedroom door.

The agents began to file out of the apartment, but before Derek could get to the door he was stopped by Hoch's hand gripping his arm.

"Morgan, what was that about? You can't just sit here watching him all day. You're not a babysitter. As of now, we don't have any reason to believe he's in more danger than a qualified police officer can handle. Furthermore,  _we_  need you to help with building the profile. Did you forget that? You're part of a team. What's  _really_  going on here?" Hotch asked, eyebrow raised but voice lacking accusation.

Derek let out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know, Hotch. Something just seems off about that kid. Like, he doesn't seem as if he really trusts us. And what bothers me more is that he doesn't seem to be taking this seriously. It's as if he's surprised we want to help him, or something. I just feel like… he's not going to look out for himself," Derek huffed out.

Hotch furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I get that you want to look out for him because he's so young, but it's likely Spencer had to grow up a lot faster than most kids his age. And I'm sure being in this line of work has caused him to develop a pretty tough skin. He's probably had to deal with a fair share of unwanted advances and I doubt receiving flowers from a 'secret admirer' is the kind of thing that would scare him silly. I think he can probably handle himself," Hotch said.

Derek scoffed.

"Flowers are one thing. Flowers potentially from a psychopathic serial killer, well, that's another," Derek said.

Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Morgan, you don't have to tell me that. For some reason you seem more impacted by this case than usual. As of now, Spencer Reid isn't a  _victim_ , he's a key witness. And while the importance of that should in no way be downplayed, he's  _not_  my top priority. My top priority is catching the son of a bitch who has been murdering people across state lines for  _five_  years. The Las Vegas Police are more than capable of protecting Spencer. And if you don't think you can let them do that, then maybe you should excuse yourself from this case," Hotch said, eyebrow arched expectantly.

"That…won't be necessary, Hotch," Derek said, feeling slightly chastised.

"Good to hear," Hotch said as he opened the door for them, "now let's go get some sleep."

* * *

It was almost 1:00 when Spencer opened his eyes later that day. Blinking up at the ceiling groggily, he sighed to himself.

_Since when has my life become so complicated?_  He asked himself as he threw an arm over his eyes to block out the persistent sunlight.

Less than seven days ago, his life—although not ideal—had been at least predictable. He would reluctantly force himself to go to work five days a week. And while there, he would try to shut down and lock out all the unpleasantness and shame he would feel as he performed for his clients. But, after that he had two days to himself, where he could go to the bookstore and his favorite café, then spend his time reading. More than anything, he looked forward to the time he spent every week visiting his mother. It had taken him a while—almost four whole years—to get to the point where he didn't feel riddled with anxiety every day. And it hadn't necessarily been easy. But, things had fallen into place and he had become content. He didn't see the point in hoping for anything different anymore…

And now, just because he was unlucky enough to have been the accidental witness to a crime, his life was currently overrun by nosy federal agents. He didn't have many friends. And no one he knew on the outside actually had any idea what he did for work. He had always been able to keep those lives separate. Suddenly, however, he found himself in the unpleasant position of having to look people in the face and admit out loud the kind of person he was. He hadn't been made to feel this ashamed in a long time. In his everyday life, the people he worked with all engaged in the same type of activities he did. So they could never give him those looks of pity or judgment. These agents, however, were all "white knights"— _good_  people—and he didn't want them to look at him that way.

J.J. and Emily were sweet and kind, and reminded him, in some way, of his mother. For some reason he didn't want them to be disappointed in him. And the older agents—Hotch and Rossi he thinks they were called—were often silent and contemplative, seeming to look at him like they pitied him, but (fortunately) didn't seem interested in doing anything about it. But it was that Agent Morgan—the boy scout—who seemed like he could see in to Spencer's soul and saw that something was broken there. Agent Morgan looked like all he wanted to do was FIX him. Like he believed that if Spencer just talked to him, and relied on him, that he could suddenly make all his problems go away. And that was something Spencer just couldn't deal with. He was too far gone to go back at this point. And it was because of this that Agent Morgan made him feel the worst about himself.

_Ugh, and I can't believe he threatened to tell my mother_ , Spencer thought as he closed his eyes in frustration and groaned into his pillow.  _I don't really think he'd do it, but that was definitely playing dirty_.

Opening his eyes and returning his gaze to his plain ceiling, Spencer worried why he was thinking so much about the overly pushy agent. Generally speaking, anyone who was so intent on trying to control him or tell him what to do would have sent Spencer running the other way. But Agent Morgan wasn't really threatening or anything like that…he was just  _annoying_. At least that's what Spencer told himself to explain why the agent was currently on his mind. Nice-smelling, overly involved and good-natured Agent Derek Morgan with the wide smile that made the corners of his chocolate-brown eyes crinkle...

_Agent Morgan seems… nice,_ Spencer thought idly to himself.  _He doesn't look at me like he wants "that" from me, and he doesn't seem like the type who would force me to do anything I didn't want to, or try to exploit me in some way. He seems oddly genuine…_

But it was strange for Spencer to not have to be afraid, to not have to always be vigilant and to, for once, maybe think that he could trust someone… He didn't know how to feel about that.

Sitting up quickly and frowning, Spencer decided he had had enough of lazing around the house and thinking of useless things. This wasn't like him. What was the point of letting those agents sidetrack his life? Pushing himself out of the bed and getting to his feet, Spencer ran his hands through his tousled hair and reached for his glasses on the bedside table.

Quickly shucking off his t-shirt and pajama bottoms, he pulled on the first few items of clothing he could find in his closet. He had wasted so much time in bed already and couldn't wait to get out, get his coffee and make his rounds. The first thing he wanted to do was hit up the bookstore. He had seven new books in mind that he wanted to read and he figured that would keep him occupied for the better part of the day. Pulling on his old Converses and slipping a watch on his wrist, Spencer headed towards his bedroom door. After making a quick detour to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, he walked out into his living room.

He smiled slightly as he saw that the blanket he had used last night was neatly folded and placed on the couch. He also noticed that his keys and cellphone were placed on the kitchen counter, next to his satchel. He was sure he had left his things all over the place after he had called Agent Morgan and soon after his apartment was flooded with law enforcement personnel.

_Must've been J.J. or Emily,_ he thought fondly to himself.

Grabbing his belongings and slinging the satchel over his shoulder, Spencer headed out the door.

Pausing for a second as he locked the door behind him, he remembered that the agents had mentioned there was going to be an officer sitting outside.

_Do I have to tell him where I'm going_? Spencer wondered to himself.  _I think he's just supposed to be watching in case the 'secret admirer' comes back_.

He didn't want to have to deal with the wasted time it'd take to explain to the officer where he was going. He had a bus to catch.

So, shoving his keys into his pocket, he decided to take the back door.

* * *

The BAU had been assembled and hard at work for the last four hours. Having reconvened at 10:00, they had spent the better part of that morning going over the facts of the case, most importantly the relationship between the Judgment Maker's previous victims and the current one, Victor LaRoux.

"Garcia has been able to find some more information on our most recent victim," Hotch said as he pressed the speaker button on the conference phone.

"Hello, my mighty crime fighters," Garcia greeted as she began. "So, this Victor LaRoux guy is pretty interesting. Through my digging I was able to find that your victim had no good reason to be in Vegas on the night he was killed. This is because he lives in a Nevada suburb almost 50 miles away from  _Mon Petit Chien_. And, what's more interesting—although I'd call it "creepy"—is that Mr. LaRoux is the superintendent of a number of all-boy Catholic schools in the district where he lives. When we got in touch with his wife, she didn't seem all that shaken up that he was dead, but she was  _livid_  that he was found in a strip club. And she did not pull any punches when she explained to me that he spends  _thousands_  of dollars at those types of places."

"Hmm, so maybe LaRoux was dropping some serious cash on his favorite girl…or  _guy_ ," Rossi said, his mind, and all the others' in the room, suddenly going to Spencer. "Maybe he was embarrassed that his proclivities ran that way, and that's why he went so far from home to chase his thrills?"

"Yea, that theory makes sense. Spencer mentioned LaRoux by name. He called him "Mr. Victor." So he's definitely familiar with him. I wonder if he was one of his regulars?" J.J. postulated.

"Well, even if Spencer was a regular of his, I don't think LaRoux was dropping  _thousands_  on him. We saw the state of Spencer's apartment, plus his financials. If he was a "kept boy" and LaRoux was his sugar daddy, he'd at least be living nicer than  _that_ ," Emily offered.

"Well," Garcia said, jumping in. "His wife did say those  _types_  of places. It sounded like she was saying that her husband visited places like this a  _lot_ , and not just one. Kind of like he had a "problem" or something. I did manage to pull their financials and while I have no idea what he was doing with that money, I do know that this guy pulled between $8,000-$10,000 from his accounts  _every_  month."

"Sheesh," Rossi said, "I didn't know superintendents had money like that."

"Yeah, well I didn't say it wasn't bankrupting them," Garcia responded. "But, whatever he was spending that on, it was  _expensive_. Spencer doesn't cost that much."

"What do you mean by that, Baby Girl?" Derek asked, his interest piqued by the tech's comment.

"Ah," Garcia said, sounding accomplished. "Well, I know you all were having a bit of an issue getting a straight story from the people over at the club. So, yours truly called them and put some "do you want us to get the IRS all in your business" pressure on them and they turned over some of their employee files. I'll be updating your case files soon, since I'm still spelunking, but from what I can see, Spencer and about a dozen other individuals, are on the pay roll under this fishy title called "alternate staff." Their pay schedules are different from the other 20 or so employees. So I figured maybe this had to do with that private room situation you guys were talking about?

_Well_ , the club charges customers a base rate of $300 per half an hour for whatever is considered "standard," and then apparently it's extra for… " _extras_." Whatever  _that_  may entail… But, the actual performer gets less than  _half_  of that fee from the club, plus whatever tip the customer wants to give them. So, while I'm sure Spencer is really good at his job, there's no way any customer of his would be spending $10,000 on just him a month, unless he booked the kid up all night, every day of the week. I think this guy was spending at least some of that money somewhere else." Garcia finished.

"Ok," Hotch said. "Well, I think we need to find out what LaRoux was really involved in. It might be good to interview Spencer Reid again and see how LaRoux first became a client of his and if he knows other venues his client might have regularly visited. I also think it would be good to take some fresh eyes to the older cases.

These cases have been spread out across state lines but they've actually all taken place in California, Nevada or Arizona. I believe we can track the Unsub's life trajectory by tracking the cases. The first two kills were in California, then one in Arizona, three more in California, and this'll make the second in Nevada. I want some of you to head to California and talk to the detectives there. I'll have the Arizona case file sent here and the rest of us can look through that and the older Nevada case. Hopefully we can piece together what it is about these victims that draws the Unsub to them."

Before Hotch could divvy up responsibilities, Derek interjected.

"Hey, Hotch. I'll go interview the kid again. See what he knows about LaRoux," he offered.

Hotch's eye roll did not go unnoticed by Derek or the other agents. Hotch considered sending Derek to California just to shake the younger agent's uncharacteristic interest in their witness, but at this point he was just too tired to have this argument. Derek had said he would make the case his first priority, so Hotch decided he would trust him to stand by his word.

"Fine, Morgan. But you don't intend to ask him to come  _here_?" Hotch asked, giving him a discerning look.

"Well we had him here for a good amount of time yesterday, plus we were trampling through his apartment all this morning. I figured it'd be giving him a break to not have to trek all the way back down here, especially since he doesn't have his own car." Derek explained

Hotch gave him a flat look.

"There's an officer stationed outside his apartment. He can always give him a ride over here," Hotch said. Derek flinched at his superior's astute observation.

"And… well, I kind of also wanted to check if everything was ok at the building and if the kid got any other strange messages or gifts. He didn't even want to call us about the first package he received, so it's likely he might brush off something that could be a sign form the Unsub," Derek explained almost sheepishly.

Emily and J.J. couldn't help but share a smile. They found it sweet that Derek seemed to want to look out for the smart and unassuming young man. To a certain extent, they had been worried about Spencer as well and wouldn't mind an update on him.

Hotch sighed in defeat as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, Morgan. Just make sure you get back here as soon as possible. We'll have two other files to go through and we'll need your help."

Turning to the other team members, Hotch began to divvy up assignments.

"Rossi and Prentiss, I want you two to fly out to L.A. The detectives there will be awaiting you. J.J. and I will start in on the Arizona and Nevada cases. And,  _hopefully_  Morgan will join us soon," Hotch said pointedly, as he glanced at the agent.

Derek nodded as he gathered his things. He hoped he wasn't making a big mistake by getting involved with Spencer Reid. But, for some reason, he just couldn't leave the kid alone.

* * *

Arriving at Spencer's apartment approximately 20 minutes later, Derek made sure to first check in with the protective detail that was parked outside the building. Knocking on the window pane, Derek watched as the uniformed cop jumped in surprise. It looked like the man had been asleep. Showing his badge to the man in the car, Derek watched as the officer rolled down his window.

"Good afternoon, Agent," the officer said around a yawn.

Derek frowned.

"Yea? Catching up on some rest there?" he asked the younger man.

The man blushed, apparently surprised he had been caught.

"Well… not really. It's just been… really quiet around here, you know?"

Derek rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"You're supposed to be keeping watch, man. With your eyes  _open_ ," Derek told him.

The officer nodded, looking slightly chastened.

"I  _have_  been. Nothing's happened. No one's come or gone. Everything's good. Trust me."

Derek glanced up at the old apartment building behind him.

"So, you haven't heard anything from Sp-…Mr. Reid, then?" Derek asked.

"Nope. I'm guessing the guy's just been hanging out in his apartment all day."

"Fine," Derek said as he shoved his ID back in his pocket. "I'll be heading up there then."

"Sure thing," the officer said with a smile, and another yawn.

Derek rolled his eyes as he crossed the street and headed into the building. He was now really regretting not putting up more of a fight when Hotch had demanded he not stay the night. Obviously this rookie cop didn't take his job of keeping watch over Spencer very seriously. Derek only hoped that the Unsub was sticking to his words in his note—that he'd merely be  _watching_  Spencer, and nothing more.

As Derek lightly jogged up the one flight of stairs to the second landing, he slightly shuddered a bit at the thought, not pleased with the idea of this man showing Spencer so much attention. It was more than just a little bit problematic that the Unsub knew he had been seen. Derek now also wondered if maybe the Unsub had  _wanted_  Spencer to see him. Shaking these distressing thoughts from his head as he came before Spencer's door, Derek raised his hand, knocked firmly on the door, and waited. And waited…

Hearing nothing, Derek's brows furrowed. Knocking again, this time just a bit louder, Derek wondered if maybe the kid was a very heavy sleeper. But, again, there was no response. Feeling the slight tingles of panic setting in at the edges of his consciousness, Derek's mind quickly shifted into action. He wondered if he should kick the door in or maybe try a gentler entry. His mind quickly flitted to an image of Spencer's brows drawn down, and lips pursed in an angry scowl at the thought of the agent kicking his door in when he was simply sleeping or in the shower. Imagining that, Derek felt his panic reduce a little and told himself not to think the worst.

Hands moving on their own to his wallet, he quickly pulled out the set of lock-pick tools he kept there. Putting the tools to work and making quick work of the flimsy lock (he'd have to tell the kid to get a better one later), Derek pushed his way into the apartment. His trained eyes taking in everything immediately, Derek was certain there were no signs of forced entry, a struggle or even a single thing out of place from what he remembered last night.

"Spencer?" Derek called out as he closed the door behind him. "It's Agent Morgan. You here, kid?"

Walking further into the apartment, Derek was able to quickly cover the expanse of the small place in just a few strides. He could immediately tell Spencer was not in the living room, nor was anyone in the tiny kitchen, which was separated from the living space by a breakfast bar. His steps took him into the back hallway and, with his hand on the grip of his holstered gun, he used his foot to nudge open the first door he came across on his right.

As the door opened it revealed a small bathroom. It took only a few seconds for his eyes to be sure that no threats were present there. Stepping away from the room, Derek then pulled open the door next to it to reveal a small linen closet. All that was left was the room at the end of the hallway, which he knew to be Spencer's bedroom.

"Spencer Reid!" Derek called again, almost completely certain now that the boy wasn't in the apartment. Or, at least that's what he hoped because if Spencer was there and hadn't responded, it could only mean nothing good.

Turning the handle and pushing the door fully open, Derek was met with the sight of a messy, but empty room. Glancing around, Derek could see clothes strewn across the floor, a messy comforter and sheets rumpled atop the bed, and books upon books scattered on nearly every available surface. Derek was somewhat surprised by the state of the room. Spencer seemed like such a somber and guarded person that, for some reason, he thought his room would be tidy and impersonal.

Derek was sure Spencer wore many hats and had learned to skillfully morph from one role into another. The glittered, bow-tie and suspender-wearing, bare-chested Spencer, was not the same sulky cardigan-wearing boy he had interviewed. Nor was either of those two personas the same shy, and somewhat self-conscious boy who had called him uncertainly last night. Looking around the room, Derek was surprised by some of the things that were missing (there was no TV, or even a computer of any kind), and some of the things that were there (he didn't know anyone who owned so many books, and he was amused by what he could see were a few figurines from popular sci-fi shows). In any case, Spencer was someone he didn't think he'd be able to figure out anytime soon. But for the time being, the kid was missing and Derek had to do something about that.

Sighing in frustration, Derek backed out of the room and pulled his cellphone out. He stomped into the living room and flopped down on to the couch as he dialed Garcia.

"Chocolate-thunder, to what do I owe this most pleasant of pleasures?" the blonde tech purred flirtatiously.

"Hey, Baby Girl, I need you to do me a favor. You know that kid Spencer? Is it possible for you to track his cellphone and see where he is right now?" he asked her.

"Is it  _possible_? Pshh! You say that like you don't know me!" Garcia said, playfully pretending to be offended. "Just give me a second and I'll get his coordinates."

"Thanks mama," Derek sighed.

"So what's going on? You guys can't find Spencer?" she asked as he heard the sound of keys clacking in the background.

"No idea. I got to his apartment and he's just gone. There's a cop outside who's  _supposed_  to be watching the place, but I doubt he's doing a very good job. Case in point: Spencer's not here," he told her, tiredly.

"Hmm…ok, I've got his coordinates. It seems like he's not very far from where you are. Only about a 20 or 25 minute drive, actually. I'm sending the coordinates to your phone now." Garcia told him quickly.

"Great to hear. Thanks, sweetness," Morgan said with a smile.

"Anything for you!" Garcia said, flirtatiously.

"And Morgan, I hope everything's alright with him," she said as an afterthought.

"Me too," he replied with a sigh, as he tried to rub the tension out of his temples.

* * *

When Derek made it to the coordinates Garcia had given him and had gotten out of his black SUV, his eyes quickly scanned his surroundings and he was surprised to see that he was in the middle of some sort of small town center with small shops, restaurants, and businesses. He was definitely not in an abandoned warehouse district or some other locale where one would hold a kidnapping victim. He was starting to believe more and more that the kid had given the cop the slip through his own free will.

His attention was drawn when he saw a person he thought looked like Spencer walking out of a quaint-looking café across the street from where he was parked. He was again floored by how different this person looked from the tantalizing, and almost bare boy he had seen last night. His hair was messier today, as if he couldn't be bothered to use any product to tame it. He was wearing a long-sleeved dark button down shirt and a pair of baggy gray corduroys, paired with those recurrent black Converses. But what drew his attention the most were his eyes, or more specifically that he was wearing large-framed black glasses. He looked like a kid who had gotten lost on his way to the library, not someone who just hours ago was emitting tons of sex appeal.

He watched amusedly as the boy seemed to juggle a heavy bag that read "Boulevard Books" on it while he brought up an extra-large cup of coffee to his lips and pushed up his glasses. Situating himself, he turned and walked away from the store. To Derek, the kid didn't seem to be in any danger; just out for a stroll. But, Derek still thought he needed a good talking to. He wasn't doing himself any favors by giving his protective detail the slip when it was very likely that a killer was watching him. Pushing away from his position leaned against his SUV, and slipping on his shades, Derek began to follow the younger male who was already about 10 yards ahead of him.

Before he could call out to the boy who had neared the corner of the street, he watched in surprise as the kid literally slammed right into two men who had turned the corner from the other side. Spencer yelped in surprise as he dropped his bag of books but managed to save his large cup of coffee. Unfortunately, his efforts to maintain the coffee resulted in some of the liquid splashing out on to one of the men in front of him.

"Shit! What the hell?" the one who had been splashed yelled angrily.

"You weren't even watching where you were going," the other one barked.

From behind him Derek couldn't see Spencer's reaction, but he knew that this wasn't going to end well. While Spencer was a tall kid, he wasn't very imposing. He probably weighed 140lbs, when soaking wet, and his lanky limbs and thin body didn't give the impression that he'd be able to hold his own against either of these guys. One was probably around 6'4" and likely had 50lbs of muscle on the boy. The other was shorter than Spencer, but made up for it in an even more impressive amount of muscle bulk.

_'Shit_ ,' Derek thought to himself as he increased his pace.

"Sorry, I didn't see you," Spencer began but was cut off as the shorter male shoved his shoulder, causing the boy to stumble slightly.

"Yea, we fucking know! What, those glasses of yours not thick enough for you to see right?" he asked.

Spencer frowned at the two men, subconsciously pushing his glasses up again.

"You ruined my fucking shirt," the taller one began to say.

Spencer glanced at the stain on the man's dark top. It was barely noticeable, but he didn't think saying that would win him any points.

"Well, I guess I could compensate you for the shirt?" Spencer said, his eyebrows scrunched up, showing his displeasure.

"Yea right, you don't look like you could afford to pay me back for this shirt," the man responded, but then a glint appeared in his eyes as he seemed to study Spencer's face.

"But hey," he continued with a smirk. "I know what Vegas is like. Why don't you try to make up for it with that pretty mouth of yours?"

Spencer's body tensed and his eyes widened as the man began to reach forward, presumably to touch Spencer's face, when he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him.

"Hey! Knock it off," Derek said in a commanding tone as he appeared next to Spencer.

Spencer whipped his head around to look at the tall and imposing agent, wondering where the hell this man had come from. But he would be lying if he said he hadn't felt a small pang of relief at seeing him there.

"The fuck? This doesn't have anything to do with you, man," the shorter one said as he shot Derek a nasty look.

"This kid," Derek said as he nodded towards Spencer, "has  _everything_  to do with me. So you'd better back off."

"Whoa, is this your man, sweetheart?" the older one said with a laugh, sneering down at Spencer.

Spencer tensed again, face flaming up. He didn't want them to talk about Agent Morgan that way.

"He's a vital asset to the Federal Bureau of Investigation," Derek said as he quickly flipped out his ID case.

"Like hell that's real…" the shorter one said with a scoff but his words trailed off as Derek slightly pushed back his leather jacket, revealing the gun holstered at his waist. He was sure that even if the men didn't immediately desist upon sight of the gun he would never have to resort to using it in any case (his muscles weren't just for show), but he knew sometimes showing he was packing some heat was enough to reveal narcissistic 'tough guys' for what they really were—cowards.

Looking up at the glaring agent, the two men immediately stepped back, hands raised defensively.

"Um, we don't want any trouble man! We were just messing with this kid. We'll get out of your hair," the taller man said as he nudged his friend. The two then quickly turned the corner, leaving the way they had come.

Glaring after the idiots to make sure they wouldn't be stupid enough to come back, Derek's attention was pulled back to the current situation when he heard an exasperated voice come from behind him.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, you know. I  _can_  take care of myself."

Derek feared he had, yet again, alienated the younger man. It was like ping pong with them, and he never knew what he would do or say that might set Spencer off.

But when he turned around, Spencer was smiling slightly with an amused expression on his face.

"It must be hard to be an action figure, huh? Always poised and ready to go into battle?" Spencer teased.

"Hey, don't get smart with me," Derek said, but there was no malice behind his voice.

Derek leaned down to retrieve the bag of books that had been dropped, surprised at how heavy it was. He handed the bag back over to Spencer when the boy held his hand out.

"I can't help being smart, you know," Spencer said with a smirk, "I am a 'genius,' after all."

"Well, Pretty Boy, next time some assholes start talking about how they'd like you to repay them with your 'pretty mouth,' I guess I'll just leave you to fend for yourself, huh?" Derek asked with a smirk.

He saw Spencer flinch slightly, but the tension left the boy's body as quickly as it had come, and instead he pursed his lips.

"Like I said, I can handle myself," Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, Agent Morgan? Something else to do with the case, or should I add you to this ever growing list of "stalkers" that I now seem to have?"

He grinned at the boy, feeling pleased that he could at least crack jokes. Spencer seemed so much more at ease now that he was outside—outside the club, the precinct, and even his tiny apartment. Maybe it had something to do with the huge bag of books he held or the extra-large cup of coffee. But it made Derek happy to see that the boy could act normal for once.

" _No_ , I'm not a 'stalker.' And yes, we have some more things to follow up with you about the case." Derek explained.

Spencer parted his lips to respond, but before he could get a word out Derek's phone began to ring.

Holding up a hand apologetically, Derek turned around to answer his phone.

"How's it going with the interview?" Hotch's voice came over the phone.

"Uh… well, I've only just found Spencer," Derek said, knowing his boss wouldn't like that answer.

"What do you mean  _found_?" Hotch asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"That officer we had stationed out front wasn't exactly doing a great job. Apparently Spencer gave him the slip and I was just only recently able to track him down at a café a little ways off from his house. Thanks to Garcia, of course. I haven't been able to ask him yet how he managed that, but I'm going to need some more time for that interview, Hotch," Derek explained.

He heard Hotch sigh, but couldn't sense any malice or frustration aimed at him.

"Well, Mr. Reid is a bit more interesting than I expected. Since, we've only just gotten the Arizona file in over here, I suppose you could have a bit more time. And you can send that officer back to the station since he's obviously be doing a less than impressive job. I'll make sure his superior gives him a good talking to." Hotch stated.

"Sure thing," Derek said with amusement in his tone as he ended the call.

Turning back to Spencer, Derek apologized for the interruption. Spencer just shrugged in response.

"So…you said you have some more questions you want to ask me?" Spencer said as he fiddled with the strap of his satchel. "I've got a brand new cup of coffee and it's my day off. I don't really want to spend it back at that stifling police station."

He then looked up at Derek through his bangs and asked, "So…do you want to come back to my place?"

* * *

A/N: Haha, so there we end it! I feel like I'm such a tease ;p. But I'm sure you've all caught on by now that I kind of like to mess with ya… :D. So, just sit tight until next time!

In unrelated news, I remember telling a reviewer that I wasn't sure if I was doing a good job describing Reid's club-outfits, and over this past weekend I watched a movie called 'Getting Go' (really good movie, but pretty mature M/M content (you can find it on Netflix tho :))) and was able to see what go-go dancer boys wear. OMG. Really hawt! I don't think I'm doing Spencer's outfits justice after seeing that, but now I have a reference point for inspiration, teeheehee. I was also able to learn the difference between a 'stripper' and a 'go-go dancer,' lol, so we can also say it was educational ;p.

Until next time, my loves!


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer:  I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS Corporation.  This is a work of fiction.  I am making no profit from its publication.

Thanks are in order, as always! I enjoy reading everyone's comments and questions so much! I'm happy you guys are invested in this story :). Thanks, as always go to my beta, Eskimita. She's really helping me to make my crazy plot less… 'crazy' haha :).

Also, I notice my chapters are getting longer and longer (this one is 21 pages! O.O). Let me know if this is a 'yay' or 'nay.' I just like to write and I stop where it feels naturally comfortable. But, sometimes I don't know if especially lengthy chapters become tiresome for the readers. So if you want the chapters to be shorter, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Xoxo,  
WH

* * *

On the way back to the apartment, Spencer had explained (at Derek's insistence) how he had gotten out of his apartment without gaining the attention of the on-duty officer. Apparently there was a back door that led to a small, fenced-in garden. Spencer said that he often cut through this garden because it put him closer to his bus stop and that the term "fenced-in," as applied to his poorly-maintained apartment complex, was merely just for show. It was easy to push the wooden slats out of the way and slip through on to the back street. The residents did it so often that they didn't even bother to move the slats back to pretend like the fence was capable of keeping anyone or anything out.

Sighing in frustration as he pulled the large SUV up in front of the building and cut off the engine, Derek turned and looked at Spencer.

"Kid, I know you're smart, but I think you're maybe too smart for your own good. Put the book smarts aside for a second, and remember to tap into your common sense once in a while. There's a  _killer_  out there. What were you thinking just sneaking out without letting that officer know?" Derek asked, a frown on his face and his tone clearly reflecting his concern.

Spencer stared at the sincere agent, wondering why the man was going to all this trouble. Biting at his lip thoughtfully, and considering that maybe he had caused the agents unnecessary stress, Spencer nodded slowly.

"Um, maybe you're right…? But, I'm just not used to having to tell anyone what I'm doing, or…you know, having people 'looking out' for me…" Spencer said as he trained his large eyes on the agent and watched as something in the darker man's expression changed.

He seemed like he was going to say something, or ask a question, so Spencer cut him off.

"But, hey, I understand. I won't give you guys the slip again. I'll be more careful." Spencer said, forcing a smile. "So, let's just go, ok? My coffee's getting cold."

Before Derek could say anything else, Spencer was pushing the door open and wrangling his large bag of books off of the passenger seat floor.

Sighing in annoyance, Derek pushed open his own door and stepped out of the car. Glancing down the street he saw the patrol car still sitting there and called to Spencer.

"Hey, kid, come with me for a sec. I need to get rid of this 'protective detail' of yours," he explained as he watched the boy lug his bag to the other side of the car, his brow furrowing with his exertion. Derek really wanted to grab that bag from the struggling boy, but he was sure Spencer wouldn't take kindly to that show of machismo.

"Why are you getting rid of him? You guys don't think I'm worth the trouble anymore?" Spencer asked with a forced laugh.

Derek watched him silently for a moment. For someone who seemed so blasé earlier about leaving without alerting anyone, Spencer suddenly seemed anxious about the idea that they would pull his detail.

"Nah," Derek said as he looked away from the kid's expressive face, "he's obviously not doing a good enough job to keep an eye on you. So, we're going to move some things around. You never know… maybe I'll get to be in charge of watching you now."

As soon as he said it, Derek wondered why he had. He knew he  _wanted_  to be in charge of Spencer. The kid's recklessness was making his stomach twist in knots. But, he also didn't want the kid to think he was 'hopeful' that he'd get that job. And Spencer had looked at him with wide eyes, saying nothing in response.

"Um… ok… Well, do I  _have_  to come? Could I just go take these things upstairs?" Spencer asked as he made a show of lifting his over-burdened arms.

"You can just give me that bag," Derek said instead, as he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Spencer frowned.

"I'm going up," he said, seeming as if he wasn't leaving room for an argument.

"Pump your brakes," Derek told him. "Even though this guy's been doing a sloppy job, I still need to know if anyone's gone into the building before I let you up. So you're coming with me."

Spencer groaned as he followed the agent who had already started walking down to the police-issue sedan. Knocking on the glass, Derek got the officer to roll his window again. This time, fortunately, the man seemed to be fully awake.

"Agent," the officer acknowledged and then glanced over to the tall, skinny kid standing next to the man. "And Mr. Reid…?" The officer's eyes had grown comically large.

"Yea… look what I found," Morgan said with a disapproving look.

"Shit, man! Where'd you come from?" the officer asked the teen, seeming to have quickly forgotten his professionalism.

Spencer flushed, feeling even more like a heel for having snuck out.

"Um, I-" Spencer began apologetically, but was cut off by Derek.

"Don't you worry about that. I've already talked to him, but  _you_ , on the other hand, should return to the office." Derek said.

The officer winced at what that would entail for him.

"Oh man," he sighed.

"But before you go, just let me know if you saw anyone go into the building," Derek asked.

"No, sir. No individuals other than tenants have entered the building since I last saw you," the officer responded.

"Alright, man. You can head back," Derek began saying but the officer cut him off.

"Am I really in trouble, do you think?" he asked.

Derek glanced at Spencer who looked uncomfortable, not to mention still weighed down by his bags.

"You can head up, kid. I'll see you in a couple of minutes." Derek told him with a sigh as he nodded towards the apartment.

Spencer smiled tightly at the panicking officer and then hurried across the street.

* * *

Only about five minutes had passed while Derek tried to talk the young officer off the ledge. He had told the man that it was problematic that he hadn't taken his duties seriously, but he didn't think it'd be anything he would be fired for. Desk duty for a few weeks, though? Almost definitely. After wishing the man luck, Derek entered the building, taking the stairs two steps at a time, but he came to a surprised stop when he reached the top landing and could see Spencer still standing at his apartment's door.

"Kid?" Derek asked, causing Spencer to turn around.

Spencer was standing at the door with wide eyes, a small rectangular white box in his hand.

"Shit," Derek said, eyes flashing angrily as he moved forward and grabbed the box out of Spencer's hand.

"Did you open it?" he asked Spencer, and the boy shook his head in the negative.

"Ok, let's go inside. I've got to call Hotch," Derek said as he helped Spencer with the bag of books that he had dropped down by the door and watched as the boy fished out his keys and unlocked the front door.

"By the way, you've gotta get better locks kid," Derek mentioned as he followed the boy into the apartment. "I was able to easily pick that earlier."

Spencer glanced at him over his shoulder with a confused look.

"You broke into my apartment?" Spencer asked, incredulous.

"Yea, you weren't answering," Derek said, looking at the boy like it should have been obvious.

Spencer sighed as he walked further into the room, tossing his satchel on the closest chair and making his way to the breakfast bar. Placing his coffee down and glancing at the agent who had walked up beside him, Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Are… are we going to open that?" he asked, figuring receiving a second mysterious package was probably a more prominent issue to tackle than the fact that the agent had been snooping around in his personal spaces.

Setting the small box down on the counter top, followed by the large bag of books, Derek was silent for a second. He doubted there was anything dangerous in the box. Whoever was sending Spencer these "gifts" didn't seem like he was interested in blowing the kid up, or poisoning him. But what exactly the man wanted from Spencer, Derek wasn't sure. And that made him apprehensive.

"Hey, just… let me be the one to look at it first," Derek finally said to Spencer after feeling the boy's gaze become more impatient.

"Why?" Spencer asked, his eyebrow arching in confusion.

"Look, kid, I've dealt with a lot of stuff like this. Obsessional crimes. People get a little crazy. If it's something…disturbing, you don't need to see that, ok?" Derek explained.

Spencer blanched at the thought of the kinds of 'disturbing' things the agent had experience seeing, but he nodded his head in assent.

Picking up the box and stepping back from the counter, making sure the contents were concealed from the younger man, Derek popped the top of the box off, and he felt his jaw clench involuntarily. Lying on a bed of what looked like white silk was a simple black leather collar with a silver name tag hanging off of it. Engraved in script was one word:  _Spencer_.

The boy in question watched the emotions forming over the darker man's face, wondering what was in the box. He heard Derek let out a soft curse but was surprised when the agent tossed the box down on the counter in front of him. Spencer's eyebrows rose as he took in the contents of the small box. Picking up the strange collar, his face paled and his heart sped up as he read his own name.

"Is…is this for real? What the  _hell_?" Spencer asked, his voice sounding strangely high and strained to his own ears.

"Ok, ok. Relax, kid," Derek said as he ran a hand wearily over his face. For someone telling another person to relax, Derek didn't look so relaxed himself.

"I'm going to call my boss and let him know what we're working with here, so you just sit tight for a second," Derek said as he grabbed the box and strolled out into the apartment's hallway.

Hearing the door click quietly behind him, Spencer sat there stunned.

Someone had sent him a dog collar. With his  _name_  on it. Did that mean that the person thought they  _owned_  him? This and many other unsettling thoughts played through his mind as he absentmindedly sipped his now lukewarm coffee, the liquid tasteless in his mouth.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the front door open again and the sounds of the agent's heavy boots walking up behind him.

"Hotch wants me to bring this back to the precinct myself. He doesn't think there's any need to get the crime scene unit out here again since there were no prints last time. This guy isn't likely to leave anything that can be traced back to him." Derek explained as he lowered himself into the seat next to Spencer.

Seeing that Spencer still continued to stare vacantly at the coffee cup cradled between his hands, Derek worriedly placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Spencer flinched almost immediately, turning wide eyes on to the agent.

"I…I'm in danger, aren't I?" Spencer asked flatly.

Derek's face darkened as he pulled his hand back, and contemplated the boy's words.

"To be honest, I can't really say, kid. This… this whole sending gifts thing doesn't really vibe with this Unsub's prior M.O. He's stayed below the radar for five years. Now, suddenly he's killed someone in public, and, on top of that, left a witness. He's just not the type to communicate like this. So, something's changed for him, or it's not the same guy. But no matter  _what_ this is, you know we'll be here to protect you, don't you?" Derek asked, hoping to comfort the boy.

Spencer sighed and pushed to his feet. Walking silently into the kitchen, he dumped his coffee into the trashcan. Derek could tell from the solid 'thunk' the cup made when it hit the bottom that it was still mostly full.

"Things were so much less complicated before you guys came here," Spencer mumbled from his place in the kitchen.

Derek heard the boy's soft words, but knew he wouldn't want to talk about it, so he pretended that he hadn't heard anything at all. He couldn't deny that he was concerned that the FBI's presence had, somehow, made Spencer a target. The crime had occurred almost a week before the FBI arrived, and there had been no mention of anyone harassing Spencer. But, the first day they arrive, Spencer receives a threat in the mail. It was too much of a coincidence.

"Hey, let's talk about those questions I had for you," Derek offered in hopes of distracting the pensive boy. Spencer looked up at him, and in the afternoon light that spilled into the kitchen, Derek's attention was again drawn to the drastic darkness under the boy's eyes and how it contrasted with his pale skin. He looked so tired…

"Ok, fine," Spencer said with a sigh as he strolled out of the kitchen and headed into his living room. Following the younger man, Derek watched as he flopped down on the old sofa with a huff, and crossed his arms over his chest.

_Defensive, yet again_ … Derek thought to himself as he took a seat on the opposite side of the couch. His eyes slowly roamed over the boy's rigid figure, focusing in on the tension that always seemed to settle in the boy's brow, lips and shoulders. But, Derek couldn't help but think to himself that, even with his closed-off look of displeasure, the kid was still disarmingly beautiful. Catching himself staring (and uncomfortable with his train of thought), Derek shook his head and cleared his throat.

"So, Spencer, you know we have to talk a bit about the clients you see at the club," Derek began, pulling out a small notebook.

Spencer sighed in reluctance, obviously not finding this a much more agreeable topic of conversation.

"What do you need to know? They're  _clients_. They pay for a service; they get their service; they leave." Spencer said, still not meeting the agent's eyes.

"Ok, but we need to know how these clients get into the club. How they pick who they want to see. And what happens when they become regulars. We need to know if there's anyone you've met with who may have…wanted to hurt you," Derek said as he watched the emotions playing over the young man's face.

"Hurt me?" Spencer asked, finally looking up at Derek. "The clients don't care enough about me to get obsessed, Agent…and if they wanted to hurt me, they'd do that in the room."

Derek flinched at the boy's blunt admission.

"They… hurt you?" Derek asked, before he could stop himself.

Spencer laughed bitterly, smile not reaching his eyes.

"Well… not  _literally_. They can't touch me inside the box… but if they want me hurt, they just ask me to hurt myself." Spencer said softly.

Derek found his throat getting dry. He didn't know what to say. His gut reaction was to grab the boy by his thin shoulders and shake him, demanding to know why he was subjecting himself to something like this. Why he couldn't do something,  _anything_  else. But, the profiler in him knew that asking something like that would only push the already closed-off boy away. Derek had to remember: Spencer was a witness and he had a job to do.

"Ok," Derek said after a moment, selecting his words carefully, "knowing what your clients ask of you may give us a better idea about which of them are most likely to be unable to separate fantasy from reality and may want to… pursue these fantasies outside of the club."

Spencer frowned as he looked down at his hands.

"There…are some things I won't do, but other than those things, the clients tend to ask for what you'd expect. You know…um, stripping. That's almost always required. But sometimes they want sp-spanking or dirty talk. And sometimes they ask me to use food or t-toys on myself. It kind of changes depending on the person, but mostly I have to play a role and act out what they want…" Spencer said, blush rising to his cheeks.

Avoiding the boy's eyes, and scribbling aimlessly in his notebook, Derek swallowed thickly, feeling heat spreading in his stomach at the boy's words. He couldn't help envisioning for a second what Spencer looked like as he was doing the things he had just described. It wasn't hard to imagine, and the images he already had of Spencer decked out in his club attire didn't help. Knowing what Spencer looked like with those clothes on made it very easy to picture the boy taking them  _off_ … Derek suddenly clenched his hand into a fist on his thigh, reprimanding himself for even thinking like that. It was disgusting; here was a kid explaining what obviously made him ashamed, and he was letting his mind wander.

"Ok," he said, clearing his throat, "So, how do the clients pick  _you_?"

Spencer sighed.

"There's a book, I guess? I know they don't use my real name or anything like that. But I don't really know what else it says in there… I never really  _wanted_ to… But I think the clients just pick me because I'm…young..." he admitted, looking away from the agent's intense gaze.

Derek felt his body tense at the thought of this. Spencer  _was_  young—too young—and it was disturbing that he had to know his appeal to these creeps was closely related to the illicitness of this fact.

"So, there's some type of book… Then what happens? These guys just pick whichever boy they think is the cutest and then they make an appointment?" Derek asked, trying to figure out how the system worked. But Spencer only seemed to pick up on one thing.

" _Cute_?" Spencer asked, his tone reflecting a mix of disbelief and disgust.

"Pretty boy, you can't tell me you don't think you're being picked because your clients find you attractive?" Derek asked.

"Attractive? Hardly," Spencer scoffed, but a light tinge of pink rose to his cheeks in any case.

"Come on, you can't do this kind of job and not believe that. Obviously your clients do," Derek said, trying to figure out if the kid was just trying to stroke his own ego. But he seriously doubted that was Spencer's motivation. The kid seemed like he truly believed what he was saying.

"Magic," Spencer said with a sigh.

"Huh?" Derek asked.

"It's like doing magic—you be who they want you to be, say what they want you to say, and suddenly," Spencer said, moving his hands in front of Derek's face as if he was performing a sleight of hand trick, "they believe."

"That's an illusion if I've ever seen one," Spencer said, looking at him with a sad smile.

"Look kid, I know your circumstances are probably not what you would've hoped for yourself. But, don't sell yourself short. Nothing about what you do should make you feel bad about yourself," Derek said as he placed a comforting hand on Spencer's shoulder and squeezed.

Spencer looked up at him wearily, but didn't say anything. He didn't shake Derek's hand off either, though, so Derek took that as progress. But he reluctantly removed his hand after a few seconds, remembering that he wasn't here to comfort Spencer—he was here to investigate a case.

"So… Victor LaRoux, our victim…was he a regular of yours?" Derek asked.

Spencer flinched at the mention of the deceased man, but nodded silently.

"How often did you meet with him?" Derek continued, watching Spencer's body language carefully.

"Um… M-Mr. Victor was…about once a week? Sometimes, maybe twice." Spencer said as he chewed on his bottom lip.

"And... 'Mr. Victor'….what was he into?" Derek asked tentatively, not sure if Spencer would clam up.

Spencer's face flushed and he frowned at the agent.

"I…I'm not going to talk about that," Spencer said firmly.

"Spencer, look…I'm not trying to embarrass you. But, the fact that LaRoux was murdered inside the club is significant. It might be possible that something about his…'tastes' led to him getting killed." Derek explained. But Spencer just squared his shoulders and turned away from the agent.

Sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose, Derek reached out and grabbed Spencer's shoulders, turning him to face him.

"We know LaRoux worked as the superintendent for a number of all-boy's Catholic schools. So… there's not much you could tell me that would change my opinion of the guy. I'm pretty sure I already have an idea about what he's into." Derek said softly, and watched as Spencer's eyes widened. He shrugged the older man's hands off his shoulders and pushed himself further away from the agent, squeezing himself up against the armrest and turning his face away. Spencer chewed on his lip, his discomfort obvious, but began to speak anyway.

"Mr. Victor… h-he liked me to dress up in uniforms… He always had me go by certain names. Usually someone named Ryan or Cory… Um… I…I had to act out scenes between him and these boys…and he always wanted me t-to say… 'I want you to fuck me, Daddy.'" Spencer breathed out, head lowered and face red. He couldn't believe he had actually said that to the agent.

Derek was speechless, but he couldn't say he had necessarily been surprised by what Spencer had divulged. He wondered to himself what effect having to play out such fantasies would have on someone like Spencer. As his concerned eyes ran over the form of the withdrawn-looking boy he couldn't help but think that if Spencer thought LaRoux was one of the  _good_ ones, what exactly his other customers had required of him that could be worse.

Sensing Spencer's distress, Derek reached out to gain the younger man's attention.

"Spencer, it's ok. I'm not going to judge you-" Derek began but Spencer yanked his arm away from the agent's touch.

Seeming uncomfortable and restless, Spencer pushed off from the couch and stalked into the kitchen. Derek watched the boy silently, wondering if he would continue answering his questions. He listened as the fridge was pulled open and Spencer began rummaging.

"You want something to drink?" the boy called from the kitchen as he held up a dark brown bottle, offering it to the agent. It was obvious Spencer was trying to change the subject.

Derek's eyes narrowed.

"That beer?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yea…?" Spencer asked, sounding confused.

"…I know you're only 19, Spencer," Derek said, giving the boy a meaningful look.

Spencer blinked hard. He was constantly being surprised by what these agents continued to find out about him. Slamming the fridge with a bit more force than necessary, and with the dark amber bottle still clutched in his hand, Spencer returned to the couch. Flopping down and locking eyes with the agent, he twisted off the cap of the beer and defiantly took a long swig.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Morgan. You must be mistaken. In any case, you should ask whatever else you need to ask me, because I'm starting to not want you here," Spencer said to the older man.

Derek just shook his head and leaned away from the boy. Obviously prying into his activities at the club had pushed the boy away. He wasn't sure Spencer was going to relax around him anytime soon.

"How'd you meet LaRoux?" Derek asked flatly.

Spencer shrugged, continuing to sip on his drink.

"He's just a regular client, I met him at the cl-" the boy began but stopped suddenly, eyes widening a bit.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

"I…I just remembered. I  _didn't_  meet him for the first time at the club… i-it was at a…a 'sex party.''" Spencer said, averting his eyes.

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"A  _what_?" the agent asked.

Spencer sighed and settled the half full bottle on the coffee table in front of him. Every time he spoke to the agent, it brought back all these unpleasant memories, turning his stomach.

"About once a month there are these… 'sex parties.' I don't know what else to call them. The club just tells us there's a "party" and everyone knows what they mean. It's an event that's held at private residences and the guests are all important, high-profile type people. They hire some of the employees from the clubs to work the parties." Spencer explained.

"Um... it's something we can volunteer for since they're not run by the club. The club just provides us as the… 'entertainment.' We get dressed up… usually there's a theme, and we're required to serve the attendees. I only do them when I'm really strapped for cash…b-but I hate the parties," Spencer said softly.

Derek watched silently, noticing how the boy was wringing his hands, and chose not to interrupt.

"I… I remember meeting Mr. Victor at one of the parties about seven or eight months ago. I was serving the food and drinks… All the servers know that you can…um... make 'extra' money by going into the back rooms with the party guests, b-but I don't do that." Spencer said as his blush darkened.

"I remember Mr. Victor had seemed… uh… 'interested' all night long, and he was one of the ones who asked me t-to go in the back with him, and when I told him no, he was actually nice about it. These types of people usually aren't… So then he asked me where I worked regularly and I told him the name of the club. He found me about a week later, and s-since then he's been booking sessions with me."

"So, you first met him at one of these parties... Do you think it's possible someone else from the party could have taken an interest in you? When's the last time you went to one?" Derek asked.

"I… I haven't been back since I met Mr. Victor. I-I told you I hate the parties," Spencer said as he crossed his arms over his shoulders, seeming to be hugging himself.

"Why?" Derek asked, trying to keep the concerned edge out of his voice.

"I… I  _hate_  being touched, and when you go to the parties, you become their plaything. The clients can paw at you and do whatever they want to you above your clothes. They're 'paying' to have access to the servers, so… you can't say 'no.'" Spencer said softly, as his nails dug into his arms.

Derek felt his stomach roiling at the way Spencer seemed to have drawn into himself. He wanted to reach over and comfort the boy. Draw him into his arms and tell him that everything would be ok. He felt the muscles in his arms twitch, apparently ignoring his better judgment, and he reached out to Spencer. But before he could touch him, his phone began to ring, breaking the silence in the room.

Sighing in frustration, Derek sat back and fished around in his pocket for his phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spencer draw his knees up and wrap his arms around them, nestling his chin on his knees.

"Morgan," he said gruffly as he answered the phone.

"It's Hotch," his superior's voice came over the line. "We need you back here, Morgan."

Glancing over at the withdrawn boy, Derek didn't feel like he wanted to leave. But he also knew he was already toeing a fine line with Hotch over the amount of time he had been spending with Spencer.

"Alright…" Derek said finally. "I'll be back there in 20 minutes."

Hanging up, he turned towards Spencer who was currently watching him silently.

"Hey, kid, I gotta get back and work on this case." Derek said as he caught Spencer's eyes. "You gonna be ok?"

"Yea," Spencer said with a small smile as he shrugged, "I…I don't know why I'm acting this way. It's just been a while since I had to really think about this stuff. But, it's not like it's anything I'm not used to. I'll be fine."

Derek felt like he could say a lot in response to that statement, but he knew if he tried to convince Spencer differently, he would never leave the boy.

"You just hang in there," he said instead, as he rose to his feet. "And Hotch told me earlier that they were sending over a different detail to watch out for you, ok? So, I want you to know you're safe here. And in any case, I'll be back to check in on you myself once I get some more information."

"Y-you're not going to tell them what I said, will you?" Spencer asked suddenly, looking up at Derek with wide eyes.

"Nah, kid… I'll have to tell them where you met LaRoux, but I won't give them any…'details.' Scout's Honor." Morgan said with a small smile.

"O-ok, thanks," Spencer said as he looked away.

Derek couldn't stop himself as he reached forward and slightly ruffled Spencer's soft hair. The boy turned and looked up at him in confusion, but Derek just smiled at him.

"See you, kid," he said as he made his way toward the door.

Spencer silently watched the agent's broad back as he exited the apartment, and listened as the door clicked shut behind him. Sighing lightly, Spencer stretched his body out across the length of the couch, his long legs hanging over the ends. Placing his hands over his eyes to block out the bright light that was still trickling into his small apartment, Spencer let his mind wander.

_He didn't judge me… didn't sneer or look disgusted. He just looked…sad_ , he thought to himself.

"Agent Morgan isn't… what I expected," Spencer quietly confided to the empty room.

* * *

Derek briskly walked into the LVPD squad room, currently occupied by Hotch and J.J., and unceremoniously tossed the small white box he had retrieved earlier from Spencer's apartment on to the table.

Hotch reached for the box, as he watched the stoic-looking agent settle himself into one of the seats surrounding the round table. Derek seemed to be displaying a lot of pent-up tension.

"This is the gift that was left at Spencer's apartment today?" Hotch asked as he flipped the top off the box.

J.J. leaned in to observe its contents and her face immediately transformed into a grimace.

"A  _dog_  collar?" she asked with distaste.

"Yup," Derek said as he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest angrily. "This guy's sick, Hotch. I don't think he's merely threatening Spencer any more. Now it seems like… like he's 'interested' in him."

Hotch was silent for a moment, eyebrows drawn downward in concentration, as he manipulated the leather neckwear in his hands. He then looked up at Derek.

"I think you're right. We don't have a functioning profile yet, but this stunt changes how we've seen this Unsub up until this point. In all his other kills, he seemed to be efficient and detached. Now, he seems possessive. But I can't tell if Spencer's just an unforeseen diversion for the Unsub, or if maybe his past cases had a similar element. I updated Prentiss and Rossi about the second gift when they landed in L.A., but I'll get them on the line now to see if they have any updates." Hotch said, as he leaned forward and dialed the agents.

"Hey Hotch, you've got me and Rossi here," Emily answered after two rings.

"Good, you've got me, J.J. and Morgan on the line. How's it going for you two over there?" Hotch asked.

"We've got a  _lot_  to read here," Rossi's tired-sounding voice came over the line. "The officers are still bringing their copies up and we've already got four boxes. We want to interview the detectives who were on the other cases, but I think it's best if we just pack up the files and bring them back so we all can go through them."

"Hmm," Hotch said, "that might be a good idea. There's a lot going on over here and with all that's been happening with Spencer it's obvious the Unsub seems intent on sticking around the area. It would be better if we weren't down two agents."

"Yea, and what's up with the dog collar?" Emily asked. "Do we really think this is our Unsub, or does Spencer just have some whacked-out stalker from the club?"

"Honestly, we don't really know how it fits in. But I'd like to patch Garcia in so we can all get an idea," Hotch said as he pressed a speed dial button on the conference-room phone.

"Garcia, it's Hotch," the man informed once he heard the line engage, "You've got me, Morgan and J.J. here, and Rossi and Prentiss calling in from L.A."

"Sure thing, Boss-man. What can I do you for?" Garcia asked.

"Have you been able to find us anything on the member list for the club?" Hotch asked, getting straight down to business.

"Unfortunately, I'm still struggling with that. These people have their member list locked up tighter than Fort Knox. I'm trying to avoid us having to go in there with a search warrant, but short of…'inviting' myself on to their password protected servers with a friendly little viral hack, I'm kind of at a loss." Garcia said.

Hotch grimaced a bit as he glanced at his two subordinates.

"Well… Garcia, I don't claim to know how you do what you do, but I trust you to figure out how to get what you need. Just make sure whatever it is stays  _legal_ ," he said pointedly.

Everyone privy to the conversation knew that was code for: 'If you  _do_  break some rules, make sure I don't know about it.'

"Reading you loud and clear, sir." Garcia said with a small chuckle. "I should have that list for you guys bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Good to hear, Baby Girl," Derek broke in, "I also need some help with another package the kid received today."

"What,  _more_ flowers?" Garcia asked, frustration evident in her voice.

"No, Garcia. This time this guy sent Spencer a dog collar with his name engraved on it," J.J. said, disgust evident in her voice.

"Yikes!" Garcia's surprised voice came over the line. "That's… creepy."

"We don't think there's anything particularly telling about the actual collar, although we'll have the local PD's lab take a look at it. But, in the meantime, make sure you check VICAP for any past crimes that include anything similar being sent to a victim. In addition, go back over the Unsub's prior victims and see if he may have sent any of them gifts that just weren't reported or maybe weren't seen as significant by the victim or their families." Hotch informed her.

"Ok, sounds good," Garcia confirmed.

"And, hey, Garcia," J.J. interjected. "How are we doing with that background information about the other victims?"

"Still working on that, Jayje. Doing some additional digging I think I'm starting to see what could be indications of a pattern, but everything's still really tenuous. I can't really be sure. The only thing all the victims have in common so far is that they were Caucasian males between the ages of 35 and 50. And they all were relatively wealthy or at least spent money like they wanted to appear as if they were." Garcia informed them.

"Ok… so maybe this guy takes issue with wealth and excess?" Rossi hypothesized out loud.

"Yea, but there's got to be tons of 'wealthy' White males spanning California, Nevada and Arizona. So  _why_  these particular guys?" Emily asked. "And why these locations? And why so spread out in time?"

"Well, it's the 'whys' that are our most important questions," Hotch said as he glanced over at Derek, who seemed to be lost in thought.

"Morgan, what'd you find out today when you talked to Spencer?" Hotch asked, breaking the younger man's concentration.

"Hmm?" Derek asked, looking up to see Hotch and J.J. looking at him with interest.

"Spencer?" J.J. offered. "Did he give you any useful information?"

"Oh… yea..." Derek said, wondering to himself about how much he should divulge to his colleagues. Obviously, he should and  _would_  tell his team anything that was useful to the case. But, he could try to avoid embarrassing Spencer, or betraying his trust, while doing so.

"The kid was…reluctant, to say the least, to talk about his line of work. I'm sure that's not surprising," Derek began and listened to his colleagues murmur in agreement.

"I didn't get too much out of him, but he did tell me a bit about LaRoux. Like we guessed, LaRoux was into young boys and that was the fantasy he acted out with Spencer." Derek said, face darkening in anger.

"Garcia," Hotch said, leaning closer to the phone, "Did any of the other victims have a past history of pedophilia, sexual assaults, or anything untoward involving minor children?"

"No, nothing that I have seen so far. But, that's not necessarily something a person would write on their resume, so I guess they could have those kinds of tastes, even if I haven't been able to find it yet. The cops usually do a thorough search of a victim's belongings in these types of cases, and they weren't able to turn up anything. I'll definitely keep looking though." Garcia said from her end of the line.

"I can't help but think this Unsub isn't motivated by something so specific," Emily murmured, catching the attention of her teammates.

"Alright, so tell us what you're thinking," Hotch encouraged.

"Since these individuals are all so different, I'm thinking the Unusb's probably selecting them based on a  _concept,_ not something as concrete as going after pedophiles." Emily continued. "Based on our files, the occupations of the victims vary greatly. We have a realtor, doctor, attorney, investment banker, superintendent, etc. Nothing in common there. Plus, they also differed on their family structures—some were single, some married with kids, and some divorced. The Unsub probably  _sees_  something in these men that just sets him off. We also can't forget that he  _brands_  them with a cross too… we have to think about all the lovely things that might indicate."

"That's a good point," J.J. agreed. "Although it takes us away from being able to figure out his exact type and puts us at a real disadvantage if he decides to strike again."

"Well, his cooling off period between kills in the past has been  _months_ ," Rossi threw in. "So I'm not too sure we have to worry about him striking again any time soon. On the other hand, if he drops off our radar, I'm afraid we won't catch him this time either."

"Well, there's always Spencer," Garcia said matter-of-factly.

The room fell silent as the agents absorbed what the technical analyst had said. Derek, in particular, felt his blood run cold at the implications of Garcia's statement.

Garcia gasped only a moment later, as if she had only then realized the words she had spoken.

"I-I didn't mean that he'd  _kill_  Spencer, of course!" Garcia floundered from her side of the line. "J-just that the Unsub has been contacting him and so now he's put himself out in the open, unlike in the prior cases. Oh my God, oh my  _God_! But I didn't mean for anything bad to happen to Spencer. What if I said something and now that jinxes him?"

"Garcia, calm down," Hotch said firmly, effectively cutting off the analyst's rant.

He then let out a long sigh.

"She's right, though. Spencer Reid is an unaccounted for variable that we didn't have in the prior cases. For some reason this Unsub is either getting sloppy around Spencer, or he wants to personally engage with him for some reason. We don't know which it is, or even why, but Spencer may give us an opening we might not have otherwise had." Hotch said with a grim expression on his face.

"Morgan, did Spencer give you any other useful information?" he asked.

Derek frowned and felt his jaw clenching at Hotch's question. Yes, he had more information. But he didn't like it that Hotch's words seemed to categorize Spencer as a tool. In any other case, Derek probably wouldn't have thought twice about Hotch's reasoning and might even have made the suggestion himself. But, having gotten to know Spencer a bit over the last few days, Derek suddenly wanted to keep Spencer as far away from this case as possible. On the other hand, Derek thought to himself, Spencer was already in danger and it wasn't going to be good for him to spend any extended period of time in the sights of a killer. Sighing in defeat, Derek decided it would only help Spencer in the long run if they found a way to catch the Unsub before he decided to get any bolder with his pursuit of the boy.

"The kid mentioned to me that he met LaRoux for the first time at a sex party," Derek finally said.

"Come again?" Rossi asked.

Derek sighed.

"Spencer didn't give too much information, and apparently a sex party is what  _he_ calls it. But, it seems that some private individuals throw these events where they hire dancers from the club to work as servers. The kid made it clear that even though they're hired just to serve, it's well-known among the guests that you can pay the servers extra to go in the back for…'private' activities. I guess that's why he dubbed it a 'sex' party." Derek divulged, albeit reluctantly.

Hotch grimaced at the information he had just received.

"So, you're saying Spencer's also prostituting?" Hotch asked.

"No, man!" Derek disagreed, voice betraying more of his anger than he had wanted it to. " _Spencer_  doesn't do that. That's just what sometimes goes on at these parties."

Silence fell over the room and Derek felt the eyes of the two agents sitting across from him.

"Derek…" J.J. said, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern. "I know that's what he  _said_ … but, Spencer hasn't always been exactly truthful with us…"

"He wasn't lying, J.J. I trust him, alright? So, just drop it," Derek snapped, ignoring the shocked look that passed over his colleague's face.

"Morgan, you need to be able to stay objective," Hotch said firmly, locking eyes with Derek.

Derek could see Hotch's trust in him was wavering, and that just made Derek angrier.

"Alright, alright, everyone, it doesn't really matter whether he does or he doesn't, ok?" Rossi interjected.

Derek glanced away from Hotch, folding his hands on the table and trying his best to distract himself and focus on what Rossi was saying.

"We now know that Spencer works both in the club and sometimes at these private parties." The older profiler continued. "If he met LaRoux there, isn't it possible that maybe the  _Unsub_  met LaRoux at one of these parties too? We said that the Unsub must've known LaRoux's habits and the schedule of the club to have timed his kill so perfectly. And it's highly unlikely LaRoux would tell someone who he knew in a familial or professional role about going to the club. The club is part of LaRoux's social life… his  _secret_ social life. You would only tell someone about that if they ran in the same circle as you did."

The team silently mulled over Rossi's words for a moment.

"That makes sense," Emily said. "It's plausible, and actually almost necessary, that the Unsub interacted with his victims beforehand. There's no way he would be so flawless in his execution unless he knew all there was to know about these men."

"Something crossed my mind earlier as well," J.J. interjected. "I was going over the recording from Spencer's interview and I remember him saying something about the tattoo on the Unsub's neck seeming familiar. I mean, maybe the full tattoo is of some recognizable piece of art or something, but couldn't it also possibly be that Spencer's seen this man before—or at least his back—and just doesn't realize it? Maybe he saw him at one of these parties?"

"Hmm," Hotch said as he pondered the information for a moment.

"We need to get more information about these…'sex parties.' Ideally, if Spencer ends up going to another party, we might be able to get a better idea of who the guests are. Maybe even be able to track down our Unsub through the parties' guest lists…" Hotch murmured, as if he were thinking out loud.

"He doesn't like going to the parties," Derek said, breaking into Hotch's train of thought.

Hotch's eyebrows rose at Derek's words.

"What do you mean?" the older man asked.

"Look, I know I kind of snapped earlier. My bad. But it was because… because of some of the more personal parts of the story that he shared with me. Spencer… that kid seems like he really hates what he does. It's not surprising since we know he wasn't some street kid doing something like this his entire life. He was a child prodigy for crying out loud. Something caused him to end up here and I think we can all guess that this wasn't his first choice in professions." Derek said with a heavy sigh.

Looking up at his superior, Derek was relieved to see that the distrustful tension had left Hotch's face, and this encouraged him to divulge more to the team.

"I was just… coming from a place of understanding that it was hard for him to talk to me about this stuff. He seems really ashamed of what he does. And he didn't want to tell me anything at first, but when he finally did he asked me to promise that I wouldn't tell you guys. That's why I knew he wasn't lying," Derek said as he looked apologetically at J.J who gave him a small smile of understanding.

"So, Spencer doesn't often go to these parties?" Emily asked.

"No, he told me he hasn't been to one in almost a year. He only does them when he's really hard up for cash. Seemed like it was something of a last resort for him… And it was at that last party where he met LaRoux." Derek responded.

Hotch sighed heavily.

"Look, Derek," Hotch said, purposefully using the younger agent's name, "I understand why you want to protect Spencer. I don't want to put him in any unnecessary danger either. Of course, we'll try all we can do to avoid involving him in the investigation of this case, but Spencer's in a unique position that we can't really emulate using one of our own agents.

"Spencer's a part of this world, and he has the quickest and least suspicious access to information that we need. Since it's apparent we're already running into stonewalls at every turn with trying to figure out who the members of the club are, I highly doubt we'll be able to infiltrate the security of these parties any easier. While I'd prefer to send in one of you, these parties are exclusive and if you were ever able to get in, you'd stand out like sore thumbs. Spencer wouldn't have to be anyone but himself. So there's a chance that it could come down to us needing Spencer to go to one of these parties, if only just to get an idea of who attends."

Derek was silent as he took in his superior's words. He knew it was the truth. But, he didn't have to like it.

"Garcia, once you're able to get that members list, see if you can get any information from the club owners about their contact for these private parties. If we can have some way to compare the lists we might be able to whittle it down later to devise a suspect pool out of the names that overlap on the two lists." Hotch said.

"Can do," Garcia responded. "I'll be in touch as soon as I have anything new, sir."

"Alright, that'll be all for now. Thank you, Garcia." Hotch said and the agents were met with the sound of her call disconnecting.

"Ok, everyone, that's good for now. We need to make some headway with the old cases and see if there's anything that can help us catch this guy, and quick." Hotch said to his team.

"Prentiss and Rossi, make sure you talk to whoever you can before you guys fly back out tonight. The lead detectives are a must, but if any of the witnesses or the victims' family members are available make sure you at least get a call in to them while you're over there." Hotch told the two remote agents.

"No problem, Hotch," Prentiss responded.

"Alright, have a safe flight back. We'll see you two tomorrow morning," Hotch told them and listened as the two agents signed off.

"Come on you two," Hotch said as he turned to J.J. and Derek and indicated to the large file boxes sitting on the conference table. "We've got a lot of case to cover."

J.J. and Derek smiled ruefully and reached for the thick file folders.

* * *

Dragging his feet as he finally made his way into his hotel room, Derek all but tumbled into his bed. It was a little past 11:00pm and after only having had about four hours sleep the previous night, he currently felt like he was running on fumes. They had been working the case non-stop, with little to no leads and they were expected to be back at the station first thing in the morning to follow up with Prentiss and Rossi about the California cases. Not bothering to change out of his work clothes, Derek quickly toed off his boots and pulled the comforter over his frame. Sleep was the only thing on his mind and he quickly succumbed.

_Derek found himself standing in a dark, empty room. He immediately knew he was dreaming, but this was unlike the types of dreams he was accustomed to experiencing. Usually, his dreams threw him headfirst into an altercation with a past suspect, or alternatively, into past life experiences from his childhood, the type he would sooner forget. But, now, he was in an otherwise unremarkable room. He could see nothing; he could hear nothing. But he felt hot, like the air itself was thick. He could_ _**feel** _ _the sweat forming on his skin, even though he knew none of this was real._

_Suddenly, a spotlight illuminated an image about ten feet ahead of him. He felt himself draw in a stuttering breath as his eyes quickly registered what the light was shining on. Or,_ _**who** _ _, to be exact. It was Spencer._

_Spencer Reid (or an apparition of him, Derek thought to himself) was sitting with his back facing him on a large round bed in the middle of the endless room. He was perched atop a plush, red sheet. From behind, Derek could tell that Spencer wasn't wearing much, just a pair of pink shorts, a red choker and black suspenders. He was kneeling, with his pert bottom nestled atop his long calves. As usual, he was wearing his black Converses. Derek watched silently as the boy's delicate shoulder blades flexed as he stretched, rolling and arching his long back slightly, as if he had grown tired of waiting._

_At that moment, the boy turned and looked over his shoulder at the agent, causing Derek's breath to catch. Spencer was wearing those glasses; the black-framed, wide-lensed ones he had seen him with on the street earlier. His hair was tousled, his eyes were wide, and his pink lips were slightly parted in a pout._

' _Agent Morgan,' the boy panted in a soft breath, his voice sending jolts of desire straight to Derek's groin. 'I-I need you…_ _ **please.**_ _Don't make me wait…'_

_Derek couldn't stop his feet from stepping forward, his body pulled by the boy's voice. Spencer's pale body undulated as he inhaled and exhaled deeply._

_He watched as the boy ran a hand up through his wavy, chestnut-brown hair and grasped it, pulling at the roots. A slight mewl escaped the boy's lips._

' _Please,' he repeated, the sound of urgency apparent in his voice._

' _What's wrong, Pretty Boy?' Derek asked as he reached Spencer's side and cautiously stepped around the side of the bed so he could look at the boy fully._

_Finally seeing the boy in his entirety, Derek inhaled sharply. Spencer's pupils were wide, almost fully obscuring the honey-color of his eyes. As he took in the agent's presence, his small pink tongue darted out to run over his plump bottom lip and he moaned. Derek couldn't help echoing a groan of his own as his eyes feasted on the sight. The boy's cheeks and neck were flushed in pink, his narrow chest was shimmering slightly with sweat, and as Derek's eyes trailed downward, he could see the obvious bulge in the front of the boy's tight pants._

' _Please, I need you…please touch me,' Spencer whined as he closed his eyes and leaned backward sliding his hands on the bed behind him and pushing his chest and crotch out for the agent's attention._

' _P-pretty boy, I…_ _ **Spencer**_ _, I_ _ **can't**_ _,' Derek choked out, his eyes quickly darting over the delectable platter laid out before him._

' _Please,_ _ **please**_ _! I only want you Agent Morgan… not them… I don't want anyone else to touch me,' Spencer said as he ran one hand up the right side of his chest, fingers lingering on his small nipple._

_For some reason, that single supplication kicked Derek into action, and, tossing all sense of reason and propriety to the side, he pressed one knee on to the bed and leaned down to breathe in the skin on the boy's long, exposed neck. The warm smell of cinnamon and coffee filled his senses. Tentatively, as if he were afraid the boy would disappear, Derek placed his hands on the boy's bare arms, gaining a soft moan from him._

' _Mmm… please...touch me more… you know where I want it,' Spencer moaned as he bucked his hips slightly._

_Derek gulped, feeling light-headed. He gripped Spencer's arms tightly, in an effort to restrain himself._

' _Pretty Boy… I can't, you know I can't…' he groaned out._

_The boy's eyes fluttered open and now, the closest he had ever been to the boy, Morgan was able to see the flecks of gold in his irises. He watched as the boy's lips turned down into a pout and Derek struggled with himself not to lean down and capture those lips between his teeth._

_But Spencer leaned forward instead, pressing his bare chest against the agent's. ('When did I lose my shirt?' Derek wondered to himself). He felt Spencer shift and wind his hand behind his back. He shuddered as he felt the boy's cool, long fingers stroking the small of his back. He then gasped as he felt Spencer's other hand at the front of his pants, lightly stroking his zipper._

' _Pretty Boy,' Derek hissed through clenched teeth as he grabbed the boy's hand in mid-stroke, stalling his movements, 'D-don't do that…_ _ **please**_   _don't do that.'_

' _But, I want to touch you,' Spencer breathed out against his neck, soft, warm breath tickling the tiny hairs there._

_Derek wanted to push the boy away—he knew he should—but Spencer's body was so hot, he found it impossible._

_Then Spencer shifted again. Parting his legs and sliding forward, he settled himself on top of Derek's knee, pressing the heat between his legs down on Derek's thigh and causing the older man to groan with need._

' _Mmm,' Spencer moaned as he rocked and ground himself against Derek, 'Please, don't leave me like this…want you, Agent Morgan..._ _ **need you**_ …'

Derek's eyes snapped open. He was staring at his ceiling, breathing ragged and forehead slick with sweat. Most troubling however, was the painfully hard erection he could feel standing at attention between his legs. His eyes wide, he tried to make sense of what he was thinking. Had he just had a dream about…Spencer Reid?

But his mind was only his for a few seconds as his thoughts wandered back to the breathy pants, pouty lips, and insistent, thrusting hips. Growling in frustration, Derek whipped back the thin sheets and shoved his hands down the front of his pants. Grasping his length at the base, he quickly pulled the thick appendage from its confines and gave it a quick, satisfying pump. Groaning in pleasure and letting his eyes slide closed, he immediately saw the image of Spencer's large eyes, open lips and flushed cheeks. His hand picked up pace, sliding up and down, and quickly becoming slick. Grunting, Derek thrust upwards into his tight fist, imagining Spencer's lips…Spencer's thighs…Spencer's ass… and he came. Hard.

Panting, Derek released his tight grip on his length and sighed, lazily running his hand over the sheets as he rode out the after-effects of his orgasm. As his breathing began to regulate, he tried not to think. He didn't  _want_  to think about what he had just done. He had just jerked off to Spencer Reid. Nineteen-year-old, key witness in a murder investigation,  _Spencer Reid_ … He felt disgusted with himself.

How could he have dreamed of something like that? Seeing Spencer like a sex object made him just as bad as the creeps who frequented the club. Since when did he go from wanting to protect the boy to wanting to… claim him? What did that mean… how was he supposed to feel about that? And then he asked himself the question he had been avoiding asking since the first time he saw Spencer.

_Why am I thinking about another man anyway_? He thought to himself, chest rising and falling with his labored breaths.

Derek didn't like men, at least not to  _his_  knowledge. But, from whatever his dream was telling him, apparently his mind could make an exception for Spencer. Derek didn't know if he should give any serious attention to what could probably be an alarming personal realization about himself. At least he didn't want to think about it  _now._ As a defense, his mind rattled off all the psychological explanations one could cite to to explain dreaming about another man. But, with all those justifications and theories, a voice at the back of his head still reminded him that, no matter what any textbook said, he had been  _aroused_. Not merely intrigued, but heart-hammering orgasm-inducing aroused.

Feeling overwhelmed by guilt, Derek turned on to his side. He had promised Spencer he would protect him. Not objectify and sully him like all the other men the kid probably dealt with in his day-to-day life. Spencer was an attractive kid. Fine, Derek could admit that. But that didn't excuse his behavior. He had dealt with numbers of attractive individuals in the past cases he had covered as a member of the BAU. He had never had these conflicted feelings before. And he had definitely never had this type of dream. But what bothered Derek the most, and what he knew would probably keep him up half the night, was the fact that he had no idea how he would be able to look Spencer in the eye tomorrow.

* * *

It was a little past midnight when Spencer's cellphone began to ring. Sitting up in confusion, Spencer realized he must have fallen asleep while making his way through the books he had bought earlier today. He had been on the fourth one. Frowning as he fished his phone out of his pocket and glanced at his watch, he wondered who would be calling this late. He didn't have many friends, and even fewer who would be calling him at this time of night. Assuming it was a colleague from work, or, more likely, one of the ever-persistent FBI agents, Spencer flipped open the phone. Seeing that it was an unknown number, his eyebrows furrowed, but he pressed the button to accept the call.

"Hello?" Spencer asked, voice showing his displeasure.

"Spencer," an unfamiliar voice said, delight apparent in his tone.

"Um, yes? Who is this?" Spencer asked back, now feeling more awake.

Instead of answering Spencer's immediate question, the voice posed one of his own.

"Did you like my gift?"

Spencer felt fear ricochet into his chest and squeeze it like a vice.

"Y-your…gift?" Spencer asked, fearing who the voice could possibly belong to, but, subconsciously already knowing.

"Yes, yes. The gift I left just for you. To show you that I want to take care of you. That I'm willing to keep you… It's so you know who you  _belong_ to…" the man said, his voice almost a purr.

Spencer couldn't believe what he was hearing. Or  _who_  he was hearing, as a matter of fact.

"I… I don't understand," was the only thing Spencer could think of to say.

"But, Spencer, you see… I can't really understand why you had to call the police… and the  _Feds_ ," the man continued, as if he hadn't heard Spencer's words.

The panic within him was rising, making Spencer almost nauseous with fear, and he gripped the fabric of his pants to calm himself.

" _I_  didn't call them…t-the police they came on their own and I-" Spencer sputtered out, but was cut off yet again.

"Don't you know  _I_  can protect you, Spencer? That's what I'm here for! I got rid of LaRoux, that disgusting pig. He told me all about his…  _tastes_ , and how much he liked you. It was vile. So, I knew I had to keep you safe from him," the man explained.

Spencer's eyes widened.

"Y-you killed Mr. Victor because…" he breathed out in disbelief.

"Yes, of course. I had to protect you. You should feel honored, Spencer. Not many can say they have had the good fortune to fall within my favor. But you… you're special…" the man said quietly.

Spencer felt like he couldn't get enough air. The terror that gripped him was almost suffocating.

"I…but he wasn't…" Spencer finally forced out, feeling tears prickling at the corner of his eye.

"Do NOT defend him!" the man said with a sharp tone. "These men that you lower yourself for, they trick you with their lies Spencer… they don't love you, and they can't take care of you. None of them are like me. They don't understand what a rare and beautiful treasure you are."

Spencer was silent, not knowing how to respond to the man's crazed assertions.

"Now, be a good boy until I'm ready for you. Do you hear me?" the man warned, a slight edge taking over his voice.

Unsure of what to say, Spencer whispered out a soft "yes," and listened as the line went dead.

_Oh shit,_  Spencer thought to himself as the phone slipped from his hands.

* * *

A/N: Really… it's not my intention to always end chapters with so much emotional intensity. I swear! Haha. I just end them in a place where it seems to make the most sense to transition to a different scene. So, my apologies if I'm giving you all an ulcer ;P.

A lot happened in this chapter! Eek. Let me know what you guys think! I hope the dream sequence (as in that it was a dream) was pretty self-explanatory. I didn't think I had to indicate 'italics' means dream and 'dream starts/ends here.' If you found it confusing to read without those, though, let me know and I'll consider how to make it clearer. (Oh, and I hope the little teaser of smut was to your liking as well ;p)

Until next time,

Xoxo


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Criminal Minds, nor am I making any profit off of this story. This is a work of fiction. Criminal Minds is the sole property of the CBS Corporation.

A/N: I live on the upper east coast and it's "Snowpocalypse 2015." That means I'm not leaving the house, and you get a new chapter! Yay! :3

So, hi again everyone, and thanks for coming back for another dose of  _Pretty Boy_! In this chapter we'll finally get to hear some of Spencer's back story (told mostly through flashback). It's going to be a long chapter (32pp last time I checked). But hopefully not too depressing that you don't want to come back. The ending/beginning of the flashback will be denoted by '~~~~~' and breaks between the flashback scenes will be denoted by '----.'  I hope that the formatting doesn't back fire on me after I post u_u. I'm definitely still trying to get a hang of it and the chapters always look a bit strange when I post…

**TRIGGER**  warning: Discussions/depictions of the sexual abuse of a minor (I don't think it's super graphic, but you'll have to judge for yourself)

Thank you to everyone who left comments and subscribed/favorited! Special shout outs to my beta Eskimita!

Enjoy!

* * *

Derek sipped his coffee and sighed to himself as he thought about the events of the past hour. Yet again, he had been the recipient of a nerve-wracking middle-of-the-night call from Spencer Reid. This time, however, he had already been awake. He did not want to spend much time rehashing  _why_ he had been unable to sleep, the vestiges of that disturbing dream lurking at the periphery of his consciousness. The guilt and shame he was feeling would likely consume him if he let himself linger too long.

After speaking with Hotch about the rushed account the kid had given him over the phone, the unit chief told Derek the team would head straight to the station. Spencer would come with the on-duty officer stationed outside his apartment. The agents had all immediately piled into one of the dark SUVs and made their way over. As soon as he stepped through the doors and had a moment to himself to think clearly, Derek felt a sense of dread at the thought of seeing Spencer so soon after his… 'vivid' dream. And when Derek saw Spencer being escorted into the lobby approximately 20 minutes after the agents had arrived, Derek went out of his way to avoid eye contact.

There was a lot of activity and for the first few minutes, as J.J. helped usher Spencer into one of the small interview rooms, Derek was able to avoid any and all interaction with the boy. He didn't even greet him. But, after the door closed and he was alone with Spencer, J.J. and Hotch, Derek could feel the heavy weight of Spencer's eyes on him. He knew Spencer's eyes were searching for his, and overtaken by guilt, Derek quickly glanced up and forced a tight-lipped smile. Spencer looked shaken up, eyes wide and face pale, but he returned a small smile. Derek quickly looked away, but not fast enough to miss the hurt look that replaced Spencer's smile. Wanting to kick himself for causing Spencer to make a face like that, Derek instead positioned himself against the wall, taking a back seat to the action, as J.J. took a seat at the table, and Hotch hovered nearby.

"Spencer," Hotch began as he motioned to a seat, indicating the boy should sit down, "we need to get a better idea of what transpired in that call you received about an hour ago."

Spencer lowered himself into the offered seat and ran a shaky hand through his tousled hair. Glancing at the younger man and taking in his tired eyes and unkempt appearance, Derek wondered to himself if Spencer had gotten any sleep at all.

"O-ok… I'll tell you whatever you need to know," Spencer said softly.

Derek felt his hands close into fists. He really wanted to reach out and touch Spencer. Give the boy some sort of comfort. But, for right now he knew he had to keep his distance. At least until he worked through his conflicted emotions.

Hotch looked back at Derek, as if to indicate he expected the younger agent to take over the interview. But Derek knew that he didn't yet trust himself to be alone in a room with Spencer. The images from the dream would bubble up every time he let his thoughts wander.

"I…" Derek began as he looked away from Hotch and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think J.J. should handle the interview."

Both J.J. and Hotch looked at him with surprise, and Derek could feel Spencer's eyes on him, although he had no idea what expression the boy was making.

Hotch paused for a moment, but then nodded and turned to J.J.

"I think that's a good idea. We'll be outside," Hotch informed her.

J.J. smiled at Spencer who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

Hotch walked over to the door and opened it, motioning for Derek to follow him out. Avoiding making eye contact with the small, hunched over form seated at the table, Derek pushed away from the wall and followed Hotch out the door. As the door closed behind him, Derek could hear J.J. speaking to Spencer in a soothing voice and asking the boy if he wanted any coffee before they started.

Outside, Derek stood next to Hotch, silently watching the interview through the two-way mirror. They were both surprised by the information they learned. Sitting across from J.J. and staring almost vacantly at his hands, Spencer repeated the phone conversation he had had with the unknown male word for word. When J.J. questioned him on his certainty, and suggested that maybe he had misheard or misremembered any part of the conversation, Spencer had informed her that he had an eidetic memory.  _That_  was news to Derek.

Listening to the content of the conversation, which was more in-depth than the little Spencer had been able to tell him during their rushed phone conversation, Derek was disgusted by the implications of the Unsub's words. The Unsub had made it clear—the purpose of the collar was to tell Spencer that he owned him. He had also admitted to killing LaRoux  _for_ Spencer. Derek wondered how that knowledge would affect the boy. What he found the most distressing, however, was the Unsub's unambiguous intent to come back for Spencer. He had told the boy to wait for him. Derek wondered how long it would be before the Unsub acted on his promise.

Hotch had also seemed disturbed by the implications of the phone call and his usually stoic face was creased with worry.

"Garcia traced the call but she wasn't able to get any useful information." Hotch informed Derek. "She said the call came from a payphone…on Spencer's street."

Derek couldn't control himself as he slammed his hand against the wall in anger.

"This son of a bitch was standing outside Spencer's apartment as he made the call?" Derek growled out.

"Seems so…" Hotch said.

"He's got a hell of a lot of nerve!" Derek responded.

"Well… we profiled him as meticulous and efficient. It's not surprising that boldness would come along with that. After doing this for so long and getting away with it I'm sure he's confident in his abilities and doesn't think he'll get caught," Hotch offered, objectively.

A silence passed between the two agents as they continued to watch J.J through the glass pane. They could see her struggling to get Spencer to come out of the shell he had burrowed himself into. It was a slow pace, but little by little Spencer was becoming more responsive to her questions.

After a moment Hotch spoke up again, eyes still trained on the interview.

"It… might be time to for us to step in and take a more active role in protecting Spencer. It doesn't sit well with me that he was able to get into Spencer's building twice, and was even so bold as to stand on the street and call him even though he knew there was an officer stationed there. I don't want to think how easily it would be for him to just break into Spencer's apartment and take what he wants…" Hotch said somberly.

Derek kept his eyes down, unwilling to show them to Aaron, not sure what he would give away if he did.

"I…I can do that Hotch," he volunteered.

The exhausted sigh he heard in response made him cringe a bit.

"You can't do it by yourself, Morgan. We'll have to rotate. This is a big case and I'll have to use you when and where I feel is most advantageous. And we need to stay focused for today when Rossi and Prentiss come back with the California case files. Deciding how we're going to go about divvying up the responsibilities will have to wait until later in the day. Until then, I'm going to leave the police detail on him." Hotch said.

"Understood… I just want to be the first one to step up. I… I feel kind of responsible since I keep telling him we'll protect him, but he keeps getting hurt…" Derek said with a sigh.

Hotch turned to face his subordinate.

"But, Morgan, you're  _not_  responsible. No matter what happens, this is a team effort. The FBI has made a promise to Spencer; it's not a personal one from you. You don't have to carry this on your shoulders all by yourself. We'll figure out a way to do this together. " Hotch told him.

Derek nodded silently, but he still couldn't look at Hotch.

The interview came to an end soon after that, and Derek watched as J.J. guided Spencer out into the hallway. The two agents walked over to meet her. As Derek came close he could see Spencer was standing close to J.J., as if taking shelter in her presence.

Derek felt compelled to try to work past his reservations and engage with Spencer. Even though his guilt was causing his stomach to clench uncomfortably, he knew that was no reason to turn his back on Spencer. Especially now that they had heard the extent of the Unsub's threat.

"Hey, kid," Derek said, trying to gain Spencer's attention. But it seemed Spencer wanted nothing to do with him. The snub stung more than Derek wanted to admit.

"Uh… I'm sorry things are getting so out of control. But we're going to step up our surveillance and we'll be personally watching you this time, Spencer. I'll even take the first shift and come by a little later today so I can stay with you." Derek explained.

Spencer glanced up at him, his eyebrows lowered in anger.

"That's fine. I don't need that." Spencer said, curtly.

Hotch and J.J. exchanged a look.

"What?" Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

"I don't need your help, Agent. Thank you. Besides, I have things to do today." Spencer said as he locked eyes with Derek.

"Things to do? Kid, are you serious right now? I think you need to stay put. There's a  _killer_  after you," Derek responded, feeling anger starting to build in his stomach.

Hotch and J.J. seemed about to intervene when Spencer let out an angry huff.

"I don't  _care_  what you think. I have to visit my mother." Spencer said, matter-of-factly.

"Visit your mother? Don't you think this might be a good day to skip?" Morgan barked at him.

"No!" Spencer snapped, petulantly.

Seeing that the two would very soon devolve into a heated argument in the middle of the police station, J.J. put up her hands up to get their attention.

"Maybe you should let someone go with you then?" she offered, looking at Spencer.

"Fine! Whatever. But not  _him_ ," Spencer said as he pointed at Derek.

Derek's eyes widened and he started to respond when Hotch placed a hand on his arm and shook his head, effectively bridling the agitated agent.

J.J. pursed her lips as she looked between the three men. She then sighed.

"Spencer, we still need you to sign the statement you gave. How about you come with me?" she asked as she motioned towards the front desk, obviously trying to distract Spencer.

The boy frowned but agreed, and followed behind the blonde agent.

Derek watched as Spencer turned away from him and couldn't help but notice the dirty look the boy shot him over his shoulder.

Hotch walked Derek into the break room and watched as the younger man angrily stormed over to the coffee table.

"So… that was interesting," Hotch stated, eyebrow raised in surprise.

The unit chief had thought Spencer had warmed up to Derek. And it  _had_  seemed like Spencer was happy to see Derek when he first arrived at the station. But it was apparent something had changed between them. He was sure it was related in some part to Derek's obvious awkwardness around Spencer and his refusal to interview him. While Hotch was glad Derek had backed off and was allowing the team to function as it was supposed to, he couldn't say he necessarily understood  _why_ Derek had done so.

"I don't know what's wrong with that kid, Hotch! He's so reckless." Derek huffed as he began pouring hot coffee into one of the disposable cups. " _This_  is why I can't feel comfortable letting others watch him."

"Well, let me know if you change your mind about wanting to be the first assigned to watching him," Hotch teased with a small upturn of his lip as he patted Derek on the shoulder. "I'm going to go get the copies of his statement. You take some time to cool off. "

Derek rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," Derek said, as he frowned into his coffee.

And that was how J.J. found him when she walked back into the break room a few minutes later.

"So, everything's squared away with Spencer." She announced. "He… seems a bit stand-offish with you. What's that about?"

Derek gave her a look, making it clear he had no intention of answering that question.

"Ok…" she said with an eye roll, as she made her way over to the coffee station.

"He did explain to me why he's so unwilling to pass on seeing his mother today, though. You know she's not well. So, Spencer believes it's really important for her stability if he maintains his weekly visits. Besides, he also said that seeing his mother makes him feel better," J.J. said with a soft smile, "so I think this'll be good for him."

"I see that, J.J. But, he's being  _stalked_. I think his safety is first priority," Derek stated, all signs of hostility gone from his voice.

"True, but I also think his mental well-being is just as important to protect as his physical one. He'll have a uniformed officer take him up there and stay with him the whole time. You don't have to worry, Derek." J.J. said. .

Before Derek could respond, he saw Spencer through the open doorway. The boy was flanked by Hotch on one side and a uniformed officer on the other. Derek watched as Hotch laid a hand on Spencer's shoulder and motioned to the officer who was holding his hand out to the boy. Spencer then nodded shyly and shook the other man's hand. Hotch said something to the boy and then motioned to the doors. The officer then led Spencer out, and, just like that, the boy was gone.

Hotch walked back to where J.J. and Derek were watching from and signaled to them.

"Ok, it's 2:15," he said as he glanced down at his watch. "I think we should all head back to the hotel and try to get as much sleep as we can. We have to be ready to go again at 9 and I need you all sharp."

Derek nodded silently, eyes still trained on the glass doors Spencer had just departed from. He hoped the kid would be okay, and hoped even more that the uniformed officer could be trusted to watch him carefully. Derek also knew that he would have to do some work to gain Spencer's trust again. It wasn't fair that he had given the kid the cold shoulder just because he felt too guilty to look him in the eye. He knew he couldn't tell Spencer the real reason, but he could at least try to make him understand it hadn't been personal.

"Derek?" J.J. asked as she leaned against the door.

Looking up, Derek could see that both Hotch and J.J. were waiting near the exit, giving him curious looks.

"Sorry, guys," he said, forcing a smile. "Not even coffee's enough to make up for all this missed sleep. Hopefully I'll zone out less once I get some rest."

J.J. gave a laugh of agreement.

"Come on, then! The longer we wait for you the less time we get to spend in our beds," she said as she held the door open for him.

Chuckling softly, Derek nodded his agreement and followed them out the door.

* * *

Eight hours later, Spencer was walking into the recreation room of the Bennington Sanitarium. Officer McCarthy, who Spencer thought was quiet but kind, had been nice enough to stand out in the hallway. Spencer appreciated that. He had never brought another person with him on his visits to the Sanitarium. He felt like it was in some way an invasion of his mother's privacy to bring a stranger into what she had slowly grown to consider her zone of safety.

Noticing his mother sitting at the farthest corner of the room in front of the window and with a book in her lap, Spencer felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His mother was staring off out the window, chin resting thoughtfully on her fist, as if she was deep in thought. Knowing Diana Reid and her brilliant mind, Spencer was sure she was probably currently debating some well-known 15th century literature critic, and most likely winning.

Chuckling to himself at the thought, Spencer made his way across the room until he came to a stop at Diana's side.

"H-hey, Mom," he said softly as he reached out and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Diana jumped slightly, startled by the touch, but when she turned her eyes lit up with recognition and Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Today was one of her 'good' days. She knew who he was.

"Spencer!" Diana said with a vibrant smile. "You came to see me. How wonderful!"

"Yeah, Mom. Of course I came. I wouldn't miss our visits for the world." Spencer said as he lowered himself in the seat beside her. "How are you?"

Diana smiled softly as she adjusted her house coat and ran a hand absently over her short, blonde hair.

"As good as I can be, baby. But, don't worry about me. How are  _you_?" she asked, looking into Spencer's eyes.

Spencer glanced away and shrugged.

"I'm fine, Mom, don't worry." He told her.

Diana made a sort of clucking sound in the back of her throat.

"Spencer, I'm your mother. Mothers know when things aren't right with their children," she informed him simply, as if she were talking to a child.

Even with his mother's insightful words, Spencer continued to avert his gaze, choosing instead to look down at his hands.

"What is it? Is it work? Is the bookstore not giving you enough hours?" she asked inquisitively.

Spencer felt his face heat up. His mother thought he worked at a  _bookstore_. Obviously, that was a lie he had told her himself. But he felt badly that he was lying to her and every time she brought it up, he felt even guiltier. But it wasn't like he could tell her he took his clothes off for money…

"Uh… everything's fine there, Mom. I'm g-getting enough hours," he said as he forced himself to look up and smile at her.

Diana frowned as she looked at her young son. He had grown so much over the years, her lanky little boy. But, even now, at his impressive height, Spencer still sat, curled in on himself, as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible. And his shoulders were hunched, as usual. She knew Spencer always carried so much on those thin shoulders. He always felt that it was his job to deal with things on his own. And she knew that much of the reason for this had to do with her and her sickness, but she would never want her son to look so…defeated.

"If it isn't the job, then what is it honey?" she asked softly as she leaned over and clasped her hand over his.

"I-it's nothing Mom," Spencer said as he squeezed her hand back.

The two Reids stared at each other silently for a few moments.

"Spencer Reid," Diana said firmly. "I'm still your mother. Tell me what's going on with you."

Spencer blinked in surprise, suddenly brought back to his mother during his childhood, and reminded of the times when things weren't so bad… weren't so shaky.

Smiling ruefully, Spencer bowed his head and licked his dry lips.

"I…Mom, what do you do if you feel like everything's slipping out of your control and you… you just don't have any idea how to handle it?" he asked softly.

He felt Diana's hand squeeze his even tighter.

"What… are you talking about Spencer?" she asked, voice sounding pained.

Hearing the distress in his mother's voice, Spencer quickly looked up with wide eyes, suddenly realizing what his mother must've thought.

_She thinks I'm showing signs of getting sick…sick like her_ , Spencer thought with panic.

"No, Mom. No, it's nothing like that," he offered comfortingly as he took both her hands in his.

He felt her physically relax as she tightened her grip on his hands.

"Ok… that's good," she whispered quietly as she glanced around the large room, "I... I don't want you to end up somewhere like this Spencer."

Spencer felt a sharp twinge of pain at that admission, wondering if she still resented him for placing her here. But he didn't see any hostility in her eyes, only sympathy.

"So… what's going on that has you so worked up?" she asked softly.

"I… I don't really know how to explain it. I'm not sure I really can, Mom." Spencer said.

"Hmm," Diana said as she looked down at the top of her son's bowed head. "Well, the first thing I would tell you to do, Spencer, is to stop thinking that you have to solve all your problems yourself."

Spencer continued to stare down at his hands, interlocked with his mother's, and said nothing.

"Look at me, Spencer," she said in that familiar, firm tone.

With no hesitation, Spencer looked up training his honey-colored eyes on his mother's.

Reaching over to stroke his face, lovingly, Diana sighed with good-natured frustration.

"You need to trust others more, baby. You have a good heart, that's rare in this day and age. And it's a wonderful thing. It gives you strength and power. And it will allow you to pick out those who will hurt you and those who are here to help you. When you find a really good person, you should keep them close to you, and rely on them. Let them help you in your times of need. There's no reason to go through any of this on your own." She said, looking at him meaningfully.

Spencer was speechless. He hadn't heard his mother talk like this in… years.

"And…you know I'm sorry I can't be there to help you," she stated.

Spencer was quick to try to assuage her concerns, but she stopped him before he could speak.

"No, no, Spencer. Let me say this. I'm your mother. All I ever want is to be there every day for you…to protect you. You had to grow up so fast and instead you ended up being the one taking care of  _me_. All I could ever hope for you is that you find someone who can take care of you just as well as you did for me," she said with a soft smile.

"Oh, mom…" Spencer breathed out, feeling his chest constrict with emotion. "You know I never-"

"Spencer," she said cutting him off. "I want you to enjoy your life, you hear me? Stop worrying about me. And remember to take care of  _yourself_. You're so skinny! Are you eating enough?"

Spencer found himself chuckling, and quickly blinking away the stinging tears that had threatened to form in the corners of his eyes. He knew what his mother was doing. This was an age-old conversation they always had. And she was trying to make him laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, Mom" he said, with a smile. "I'm eating."

"I don't believe that for a minute, Spencer Reid. 'Eating' doesn't mean drinking four cups of coffee and eating a Rice Krispy treat once in a while when you remember."

Spencer blushed at this accusation. He had definitely had two cups of coffee and a Rice Krispy bar for breakfast this morning.

"See what I mean!" Diana said as she shoved his shoulder playfully. "You'll have to have lunch with me, then. I'll make sure Dr. Peters tells the staff to prepare you a plate. And they'll pile it high with vegetables and protein for you."

"Oh, come on, Mom," Spencer whined, but couldn't help his laugh.

"Spencer, I won't take 'no' for an answer," Diana said firmly.

"Ok, ok." Spencer smiled. "I'll be honored to join you for lunch, then."

"Good, I can introduce my handsome son to all my friends here. I'm sure they'll be green with envy," she said teasingly.

"Ugh," Spencer groaned, as he rolled his eyes.

"Just humor your mother, dear," she told him.

"Fine, fine," Spencer replied with a small smile.

Smiling in triumph, Diana squeezed Spencer's hand reassuringly, and Spencer squeezed hers back, silently telling her his thanks. Words were unnecessary.

* * *

The members of the BAU stood tiredly around their borrowed conference table as they sorted through their breakfast sandwich and coffee orders. Prentiss and Rossi were just as tired as the rest of their team as they had stayed longer in Los Angeles than intended because they had taken time late in the day to re-interview some of the victims' loved ones. Hotch had updated them on the previous night's occurrences and both agents expressed their concern for the young Spencer Reid.

"This is getting ridiculous," Emily said as she settled into one of the seats around the table and situated her breakfast in front of her. "How does this guy keep slipping past us?"

Hotch did little more than grunt as he took a seat as well. It was really starting to irk the team leader that this Unsub was proving to be so resourceful. It went against his nature to keep calm in the face of such a challenge to his team's efficacy, but as the face of the BAU, he couldn't let his ire show.

"We need to stop chasing this guy," Rossi said, as he and the other agents took their places at the table. "How do we get in front of him?"

"Only with a complete profile. We have to figure out who he is." Hotch said, an edge to his voice.

The other four agents in the room exchanged concerned glances.

Hotch then leaned over and pressed the speed dial button on their phone.

After one ring, the call engaged and Hotch responded with a curt, "Garcia."

"Good morning, my doves!" she said cheerily.

"Garcia," Hotch said, getting to business quickly. "We need to know all you were able to gather. We can't continue to work with such a slipshod profile."

Sensing the mood, Garcia quickly adapted.

"Yes, sir. I actually made quite a lot of leeway since we last talked. First, I was able to get the membership list from the club. Mum's the word on how I managed to do that, though," Garcia said.

Derek couldn't help but smile at the tech analyst's words.

"The membership consists of a bunch of big shots. And to get in, you have to pay an annual fee of $5000. Not an impossible amount, but this is definitely not the kind of money an average person dishes out for a hobby. This fee gives access to the club and the main shows, but doesn't include the drinks, food, or any of the lap dances, champagne room service, or private shows. However, it does allow members immediate access to those off-site events Spencer mentioned." Garcia informed them.

The agents absorbed the information silently as they began to dig into their meals and listened to the sound of her quick fingers typing in the background.

"Apparently, when members enter the club, they just have to flash some sort of pendant, which apparently changes every year. Because that pendant is enough of an identifier, the management doesn't keep a list of those who enter the club and, thus can always, conveniently, deny knowledge of who is in attendance at any given time. They also don't keep a guest list for the parties, I'm assuming for the same reasons. The parties are a bit more lax in exclusivity, I'm guessing since they're held at private residences, but generally only members are allowed entrance. Guests can only accompany members with special permission." Garcia explained to them.

"Wow, great job, Garcia. You were able to find out a lot. I'm afraid to ask exactly  _how_ you found all that out," J.J. said teasingly. "But, from what you're saying, it sounds like it's possible that the Unsub's name might be on that list. How many are we talking about here?"

"Well… so far it seems like it's about 1800 names. This is a master list for a couple of clubs across different towns and different states. And before you ask,  _yes_ , some of these clubs were in California but none of them were located in Arizona. The other states that house these clubs are Texas, Florida and New York. Apparently that one-time fee lets you enter any of these clubs in other states and you get the same perks." Garcia explained.

"Hmm," Rossi said as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So, the clubs may or may not be connected to how he chooses his kills. Victor LaRoux's death was the only one that took place in a club, so, as of now, that location is actually an outlier. So even if the Unsub is meeting these men in these clubs, the club hasn't been important enough for him to kill in before. Plus, if the Unsub was only killing in states that had these clubs, it doesn't explain why he killed in Arizona but chose to ignore Texas, Florida or New York. He has killed multiple times, but exclusively in California, Nevada and Arizona. He  _chose_  to stay in a relatively small radius of these three states."

"Ok, well, we know he has to have some type of money," Emily said. "$5000 a year membership must mean he has disposable income. But, for some reason he chooses to stay within a small radius so maybe something is preventing him from traveling too far from home. Maybe a job, or a family?"

"I think you're definitely on track on the money front, Emily," Garcia responded. "The LVPD faxed me over the crime scene analyst's report on the gifts that Spencer received and they were all of extremely high quality. Unfortunately, this Unsub is a clever duck because, while they were expensive, none of them were 'ultra-rare' or only sold at specialty shops.

"The flowers were off-season, so they were more expensive than regular red roses. Only 4 florists in the immediate area sell them, but they are a popular item and none of the stores keep records of items purchased with cash. The…'collar,' while plain, was made from some very nice leather and came from a specific chain of leatherworker stores. But I was informed that it could have been ordered from one of their 40 stores across the country, or even purchased online. It costs about $800. Same goes for the nameplate. That's  _real_  platinum. But again, it could have been purchased at any jewelry store in the nation. There is literally no way to track him using these items. So, sorry I couldn't be helpful there…"

"Well, hold on a minute Garcia. I do see it as being helpful. The fact that this man went to all this trouble tells me that maybe he's not doing this to impress that kid, per se…maybe he's just grown accustomed to a certain level of taste. When you have money, you gravitate towards purchasing high quality items because that's all you're used to. It wouldn't cross his mind to get run of the mill items," Rossi suggested.

"Hmm… I'm not surprised you know that," Emily teased as she glanced at Rossi across the top of her coffee cup, "I'm sure your boots cost more than one of my paychecks."

Rossi shrugged with a smile, causing the other teammates to laugh.

"Well, if he's just used to having nice things it's unlikely that he only recently fell into money." Derek suggested after the chuckling died down.

"Good, that's something we can look into as well." Hotch said as he leaned closer to the phone. "Garcia, we're going to need you to whittle that list down and see if there's anyone on there with a wealthy family history and who also has a strong connection to Nevada, Arizona and California. The first kill took place in California, so that might be personal to him in some way. Follow the dates of the kills and track them to the movements of the members on that list. If anyone was in one of those states around the time of the murders, I want them flagged."

"Yes, sir," Garcia responded as she input the search parameters into her system. "It will take me some time though."

"That's fine." Hotch responded.

He then turned to Prentiss and Rossi.

"What happened with the California cases? Anything useful on that front?"

"Yes and no," Emily said, with a sigh.

"We were able to interview a few of the victims' family members and loved ones. We weren't able to see any immediate connections between the victims, though. There were some annoyed wives or spurned family members, but no one who said they weren't shocked to hear that the victim was dead. These weren't guys with targets on their backs. At least not obvious ones. They all just seemed like very ambitious men." Emily said as she shrugged.

"We did forward the information on to Garcia, however, and she said she would try to see if there were any connections that could be found on a statistical level. Any luck, PG?" she asked

"So far I've only found little hints and whispers of dirt in some of these men's lives, but nothing that could be substantiated through reports or records." Garcia answered.

"For example, one of the victims was a successful divorce attorney in Palo Alto. Apparently he was under investigation for helping his clients to fabricate information that would release them from a duty to pay alimony or child support. The story was that his clients could divorce their usually financially much worse off partners, scot-free, and the attorney would collect money under the table for having orchestrated this awful scheme. One of the wives, who ended up having to live in a homeless shelter after her husband left her, tried to file suit against the attorney but then suddenly she, and the case, disappeared."

"Ok… that's strange," J.J. said.

"Another one of the victims was an acclaimed psychiatrist. He had published a few books and even had a small tour. He was the head of a mental institution for women in Arizona. Similarly, allegations arose that he was sexually abusing his patients but no one believed them because they were mentally ill. Apparently a small investigation was undertaken, but then the medical board cleared him. But none of this appeared in the papers, and the good doctor did not have even a blemish in his professional record. I was only able to find this out through a community action blog that alleged the Board cleared him because they had been paid off." Garcia continued.

"And our first Nevada victim was a realtor who was tied up in a scandal involving the sale of houses for low-income families that were built on toxic land. There were rumors that he knowingly sold these houses to these families, taking all their savings, and leaving them with serious medical issues. But when an investigation was starting to begin, none of the witnesses would come forward and he was able to clear himself by arguing that he had no knowledge. And apparently the accusation had no impact on his professional reputation, either. At the time of his murder he was still working as a very successful realtor." Garcia stated, distaste apparent in her voice.

"So… is it possible that all of the victims have something like this in their pasts?" Emily asked.

"I haven't been able to fully investigate all of them. And I'm still trying to find some kind of dirt on LaRoux, but I think it's more than a coincidence that so many of these victims had allegations against them 'disappear' or investigations that were suddenly dropped." Garcia informed.

Hotch frowned as he absorbed the information.

"So… could the Unsub's motivation possibly be wealthy men that use their influence to avoid taking responsibility for their transgressions?" he murmured.

"We can't know for sure until Garcia finds the same connection among all the victims," Rossi offered, "but I think it's an interesting hypothesis. If these men are all wealthy it's possible they may run in similar circles as the Unusb. And if we're right, something about the fact that these men used their influence to escape justice is probably what is motivating him. So, Garcia, while you're looking for any overlap between the names of people on the list, make sure to keep an eye out for anyone who may have had something similar happen to him in his past. That may be our trigger."

"Will do, Sir," Garcia responded, fingers flying over the keyboard as she added the additional parameters to her search.

Derek had been paying rapt attention to his colleagues thoughts and suggestions, and was more than a little relieved that they were starting to build what looked to be a good profile. But he couldn't help but voice the thought that had been gnawing at him for the past few minutes.

"If that's what's motivating the Unsub, then how does Spencer play into all of this?" he asked.

The other agents looked around at each other, obviously unsure how to answer that question.

"Spencer is, and has always been, a confounding element. I'm not sure how he fits," Hotch admitted. "He isn't wealthy, and from what we were able to find, he never has been. He has no criminal record. In fact, he's too young to have made any kind of deleterious impact similar to the men we have been describing. It's unclear how he even got on to the Unsub's radar."

"He's not the Unsub's typical victim, that's for sure. Although he's definitely targeting Spencer, it seems more like he's  _courting_  him," Emily said, distaste at having had to use that word apparent in her expression. "As of now, I don't think this guy has any intention of killing Spencer… it seems more like he wants to 'keep' him."

"It's rare for an Unsub to switch focus, but maybe there's something about this kid that caught his attention… maybe changed the killing from mission-based to personal?" Rossi hypothesized.

"Right," J.J. agreed. "Spencer told us that the Unsub said he killed LaRoux  _for_  Spencer… as if he was protecting him from the man."

"So, we need to find out how the Unsub first learned about Spencer and what about him makes him special. In addition to that, we have to talk about who we're going to add to his protective detail. I think we should have agents or officers in his apartment, or at least stationed in the hallway, every night. I also need a complete background on all the victims by the end of the day, Garcia," Hotch said, directing his voice to the phone.

"And for the time being, I need each of you working on following up with those leads on the allegations we already know exist against the other victims," Hotch continued as he looked at his team.

Each agent nodded their agreement, their willingness to go above and beyond to break this case evident in each of their eyes.

"We've got a lot to cover," Hotch said as he got to his feet. "Let's get to work."

* * *

It was just starting to get dark when Spencer finally walked into his apartment. Officer McCarthy had walked Spencer up to his door, ignoring Spencer's protests that he would be fine on his own. The man even insisted on looking around the apartment to make sure nothing was out of place. Satisfied, he bid Spencer a good night and told him if he needed anything he'd be parked right outside. Spencer felt embarrassed to need to be watched so carefully, but he couldn't lie that it helped him feel somewhat safer.

Toeing off his sneakers by the door, Spencer walked across his small living room and into his kitchen. His stomach had been grumbling for most of the drive back down from Bennington. He had had a good day with his mother, and in addition to her piling his plate high and watching him like a hawk during lunch to make sure he ate every bit of it, he had played chess and completed a number of crosswords puzzles with her. After meeting quite a few of her 'friends' (all strange in their own unique ways), Spencer spent a few hours in his mother's room listening to her reading to him from Chaucer as she stroked his hair lovingly, just as she had when he was young. The day had slipped away from him quickly, and before he knew it one of the attendants was regretfully telling him visiting hours were over. He hadn't even noticed how much time had passed and that the sun was setting. Apologizing to the staff profusely, Spencer had kissed his mother goodbye and hurriedly vacated the premises.

Now he was back home, and while he felt he was thoroughly relaxed and in a better place after having seen his mother, he was shocked at how hungry he was. Sure, he had last eaten about six hours ago, but he was used to going a lot longer without meals. Eating just wasn't that important to him, lately. Now he wondered if maybe eating such a good lunch reminded his body what it was like to get regular, and nutritious, sustenance and now it was demanding to be properly taken care of. Laughing to himself a bit at the thought, Spencer pulled the door to the fridge open. His smile quickly turned to a frown.

_Oh yeah,_ he thought to himself.  _I don't really do grocery shopping_.

All that stared back at him in the fridge was a few bottles of water, one six-pack of beer (sans the beer he had drank yesterday), some butter, salad dressing, a few lone tomatoes, and a large container of coffee creamer. Sighing as he shut the kitchen door, he wondered where he could possibly order from.

A sudden pounding at his front door caused him to jump in shock. Fear immediately gripped him, as he wondered who it could possibly be. But, he quickly tried to talk himself down as he stepped out of the kitchen and stood in the living room, facing the closed door.

_There's no way the killer could get up here. McCarthy's parked downstairs and he wouldn't let anyone get past him, right? It's probably one of your stupid neighbors_ , Spencer thought to himself, hopefully.

He then heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, kid! Open up! It's Agent Morgan! I know you're back, McCarthy checked in with us as you guys were leaving, so I timed it just right," Derek called from the other side of the door.

Staring in shock at the closed door from across the living room, Spencer couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Agent  _Morgan_?" Spencer asked in shock, not moving from his spot.

"Yea, kid! It's me. Come on, open up. I've got take out and the longer you leave me out here the faster it'll go cold," Derek called from behind the door again.

Frowning to himself, Spencer considered leaving the impertinent agent exactly where he was, but an unbidden, and loud, growl from his stomach changed his mind.

_Well… I shouldn't really turn down free food_ , Spencer thought to himself.

Sighing in exasperation, he stalked over to the door and quickly unlocked it. Grabbing the handle and swinging the door open, he stared at the smiling agent.

"Thai food," Derek said as he held up two large brown paper bags. "I hear this place is good."

Rolling his eyes, Spencer turned around and walked back into the living room.

Imagining that that would be the extent of any 'invitation' he would get to enter, Derek followed the boy into the room, nudging the door shut behind him.

"Can I ask what you're doing here, Agent Morgan?" Spencer asked as he stood across from the man, arms crossed over his chest and stance clearly broadcasting his displeasure.

"Well… I figured you could use a hot meal after all the stress from earlier. And besides, I wanted to talk to you," Derek said as he moved past the boy and into the living room, and placed the bags down on the coffee table. He then kicked off his shoes and settled on the couch.

Spencer watched with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, as the agent made himself comfortable.

Blinking himself out of his stupor, Spencer stalked around the couch and came to a stop in front of Morgan.

"You what?" Spencer asked.

"Here, come take a seat. I didn't know what you'd want so I basically got all the popular dishes. So just take whatever you like," Derek said as he began to open the bags and remove plates, utensils, containers and bottles of water.

Spencer was speechless, but did as Derek bid anyway, slowly walking to the empty side of the couch and sitting down. He stared hard at the agent, but when Derek remained silent and continued to arrange the containers on the small coffee table, Spencer let out a frustrated sigh.

"You need to tell me why you're here right now, or you need to leave." Spencer said firmly.

Sighing, Derek stopped what he was doing and turned to face Spencer. The boy was giving him a guarded look—a mixture between annoyance, sadness and distrust.

"I… I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier," Derek said sincerely.

Spencer flinched and narrowed his eyes, his expression showing his obvious disbelief.

"I know it was totally uncalled for, and you were probably very confused… I… I was just upset about some… personal things and I took it out on you. It was unfair and I should've been able to put it aside… I shouldn't have brought that with me to work, but I did. So I'm sorry that you got the brunt of that, ok? I know it took a lot for you to open up to me yesterday and I don't want you pulling back because of something like this. I want you to know you can trust me and rely on me. I don't want to do anything to shake your trust in me, Spencer," Derek said softly.

Spencer was silent for a moment as he stared at his lap and nibbled on his bottom lip. He couldn't help but think how much of a coincidence it was that Derek had said almost the same things his mother had said to him earlier.  _Someone to trust and rely on,_ he thought to himself, wondering if maybe the agent was the kind of person his mother had been talking about.

He couldn't deny that he had been hurt by Derek's cold shoulder this morning, especially after he had confided in the agent as he had, but he also couldn't discount the fact that Derek had actually apologized. He had made the effort to come over here, bearing gifts even, to ask for Spencer's forgiveness. That meant a lot to him.

When he finally looked up at Derek, Spencer's eyes still showed a bit of doubt but the hostility was gone.

"Personal things, huh?" Spencer asked with an arched eyebrow.

Derek looked away and shrugged. Spencer thought for a second he had seen color rise to the agent's cheeks, but told himself he must have just imagined it.

"It happens, kid," Derek said simply.

Spencer sighed, and out of the corner of his eye Derek could see the boy reaching over to the containers on the table.

"You got enough food here to feed an  _army_ ," Spencer commented as he inspected one of the large plastic containers.

Derek laughed, feeling the tension leave his body. It seemed like Spencer had forgiven him for the moment… or was at least willing to give him another shot.

"Well, I said I didn't know what you liked. Besides, these leftovers would be enough to keep you nice and full for a couple of days," Derek said with a grin.

Spencer pursed his lips as he glanced at Derek.

"You sound like you think I don't feed myself," he said as he popped the lid off the container he had chosen.

"No offense kid, but from the looks of you I kind of think you  _don't_ ," Derek said, chuckling slightly.

Spencer groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, you're starting to sound just like my  _Mom_ ," Spencer said as he glanced away and began to spoon some rice on to his plate.

Derek smiled to himself.

"How  _was_  the visit with your mom? Did it make you feel a little better?" Derek asked as he grabbed a plate and started to help himself.

Spencer paused in mid-scoop for a second, as if he were debating divulging the information, but then smiled and continued serving himself.

"Yea actually… it was really good to see her."

"I'm glad to hear that, kid. Sorry I acted like it wasn't important earlier. I was just really worried about the Unsub and when I get worked up I don't always think before speaking," Derek explained.

Spencer scoffed.

"You think I haven't picked up on that?" he asked, a teasing tone to his voice.

Derek couldn't help but laugh as well. Things were really relaxed with Spencer. Even knowing he still had to work through his conflicted emotions concerning the boy, Derek didn't feel uncomfortable around him. In fact, he had been tense all day thinking about Spencer being out of his sight and not knowing what was happening to the boy. Now that he could see him, Derek felt the tension leaving his body at the knowledge that Spencer was safe and sound.

The two then proceeded to heap their plates full of the pungent-smelling food. Spencer inhaled deeply and felt his mouth-watering. He was suddenly extremely happy that Derek was there. Picking up a fork, he began stuffing the savory food into his mouth.

Derek smiled to himself as he saw how happy the kid was. Chuckling, Derek cracked open a bottle of water and placed it in front of Spencer.

"Make sure you don't choke," Derek said, trying to keep a straight face.

Spencer rolled his eyes at him, but with cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk it was hard to take him seriously.

Swallowing pointedly, Spencer turned to Derek.

"How's the case going?" Spencer asked.

Derek sighed a bit as he sat back, stretching his arms over his head and cracking the joints in his neck. Spencer watched on, finding himself somewhat mesmerized as the man's powerful arm muscles undulated under his tight shirt. He knew the agent was probably very tired, especially since every night since he had known him he had called the man way past waking hours. So Spencer suddenly felt very guilty to be thinking about the man's physique instead of thinking, sympathetically, about how much of a toll the case must be taking on him. Turning away from the man and ducking his head, Spencer tried to occupy himself with shoveling food into his mouth.

"I think, for once, things are actually progressing somewhat smoothly," Derek told him. "Our analyst was able to find some things out about the types of victims this guy tends to pick and this information will be really useful to our profile."

"Information like what?" Spencer asked, curiously, now that he had had a moment to gather his bearings.

Derek grimaced slightly.

"Well… we don't share our profiles with the general public until it's complete, and unless we think it will be useful in helping them to protect themselves. I know you're more involved in this case than a random person on the street, but the Unsub's not targeting you the way he's been targeting those men he killed. We're actually working on a separate profile to explain why he's been so fixated on you, but so far we don't have enough information. But as soon as we know more about him, and anything that will help us keep you safe, I'll be sure to tell you," Derek offered with a small smile.

Spencer nodded his understanding. Of course he was curious and felt slightly put out that Derek was keeping information from him, but he also appreciated the man's upfront honesty. He believed the agent when he said he would let Spencer know as soon as they had something.

"And Hotch decided how he's going to divvy up the watch assignments on you." Derek continued, perking up a bit. "Hotch and Rossi are our more senior agents, so they have to maintain a constant presence at the station. So, it'll be between me, J.J. and Emily, but I'll probably be taking most of those shifts. "

Spencer tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at that. He wanted to ask the agent why exactly  _he_  would be taking more of the shifts, but Derek just continued on, apparently needing to get something else out.

"And… oh yeah… I'll be staying the night." Derek said as he watched the boy carefully. He wondered if he should have thrown in an 'If that's alright with you,' but didn't quite see the point. Even if Spencer had protested, there was no way he would be convincing Derek to leave the apartment that night.

Spencer blinked in surprise at the agent's statement.

"Um… what?  _Here_? I don't really have any…" Spencer trailed off as he motioned around the small room.

"That's ok, kid. I'm quite used to sleeping on couches." Derek explained.

"This is a small and very uncomfortable couch, Agent Morgan. I'd feel bad if you had to sleep on this." Spencer said sheepishly. "I… I can take the couch."

Derek chuckled, mood immediately lifted by the fact that the kid hadn't flipped out on him at the suggestion of him staying over. Instead, he seemed more concerned for the agent's comfort.

"Kid, I wouldn't hear it! Besides, I would catch hell from J.J. and Emily if they knew I let you take the couch. They're like mother hens," Derek said with an eye roll.

Spencer returned a genuine and wide smile. And Derek felt his heart throb unexpectedly. He was almost floored by how beautiful Spencer looked, smiling so openly like that. Seeing him with his guard down was so rare and Derek suddenly, and selfishly, hoped that Spencer didn't share this side of him with many other people.

"I… I really like them." Spencer said with a smaller smile.

He then glanced at Derek and his cheeks reddened slightly.

"And… you're not so bad either, Agent Morgan," he admitted bashfully, as he played around with the food on his plate.

Derek blinked in surprise. He wasn't expecting  _that_. And it made his heart throb in his chest again—something it had been doing often that night.

"You…don't have to keep calling me that, you know?" Derek said, before he could stop himself.

Spencer looked up at him, his fork pausing on its ascent to his mouth.

"Calling you what?" Spencer asked.

"Um… Agent…?" Derek said, now wishing he hadn't started this conversation.

"Oh." Spencer said as he brought the fork down to his plate and proceeded to chew on his bottom lip.

_Now he's nervous_ , Derek thought to himself as he watched the boy play with his lip. He could now read Spencer's many tells like he had known the boy for years. And the lip-biting was his most obvious one.

"So… what should I call you then?" Spencer asked, tilting his head to the side quizzically.

"Uh… Morgan… or, no… I guess that's what my colleagues call me. Um… Derek… Derek is fine," Derek stuttered out, unsure of why he was becoming so nervous.

"Oh." Spencer said again, blinking slowly.

But then he smiled.

"Ok… D-Derek it is then," he said, the smile becoming larger.

Derek felt his shoulders relax and he returned the boy's smile.

Talking to Derek, Spencer found himself smiling more often than he had in a long time. Just like spending time with his mother had relaxed him, Spencer felt himself relaxing in a different way. He felt comfortable with the agent, not on edge or suspicious like he spent most of his day when he interacted with others. Talking with Agent Morgan—no,  _Derek_ (Spencer thought with a smile) came easily. He even found himself teasing the agent, and surprisingly the agent playfully teased back. It was as if Derek actually  _liked_  him…liked him just for him.

But, Spencer still felt hesitant. He knew he hadn't told Derek everything about him. He honestly didn't know what the agent already knew or what he thought of him. Spencer felt it was wrong to allow Derek to help him unless he knew the truth about him. While Spencer felt uncomfortable just thinking about it, and knew it would be even harder to  _talk_  about, he also subconsciously knew that he didn't have anything to feel ashamed about—none of what had happened to him had been his fault. But that didn't stop the anxious clenching of his stomach at the thought of what  _Derek_  would think.

_Would he think I'm disgusting… dirty?_  Spencer thought, sadly.

But Spencer knew that if he took control of the story—if he told it from his point of view—at least Derek would have heard the truth from him and wouldn't have to speculate.

As Derek sipped on his bottle of water, he observed the boy next to him. He had noticed that Spencer had grown strangely quiet after their pleasant exchange. His smile had slowly faded. He had stopped eating and was staring off in front of him, brows lowered in concentration and pink lips pressed into a grim line. He was obviously thinking about something that distressed him. All signs of the jovial and teasing banter they had been exchanging only moments before were gone.

"I…I don't fuck those men," Spencer suddenly blurted out.

Derek choked on the drink he was swallowing and turned slightly to stare at Spencer with an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"What?" he asked, in shock. He wasn't sure he had heard correctly.

Spencer blushed as he looked down at his lap and started to play with the hem of his shirt.

"I-I was just saying that I don't fuck them…if you thought that's what I did at the club…" he mumbled.

"Spencer, it's none of my business what you do, man. You don't owe me any kind of explanations…" Derek said as he set his drink down and turned fully to the reticent-looking youth. "But what brought that up all of a sudden?"

Spencer sighed, but still refused to meet Derek's eyes.

"Well, I just figured you were wondering. I mean… you haven't really asked… and I don't want you to think I… I do stuff like that," Spencer said, a bit inarticulately.

"I-it's important…" he mumbled after a moment.

Derek felt his heart clench at the sight of Spencer's discomfort. He wondered why Spencer thought his opinion was so important. But he also wondered why Spencer assumed he had a  _bad_  opinion of him. His opinion was far from that. In fact, as indicated by his dream, Derek didn't feel any disgust toward Spencer at all. He  _lusted_  after him. Derek didn't think there was anything dirty about Spencer. And he needed Spencer to know that. He wanted him to know that he wouldn't judge him for any of the decisions he had made. It was painfully apparent to Derek, just looking at the boy's tense shoulders, that he desperately wanted to feel accepted.

"So…you don't sleep with the guys from the club. That's a good thing, isn't it? I'm sure that's probably for the best anyway. You have to keep business separate," Derek said, trying to show Spencer he understood.

Spencer looked up at him with a furrowed brow (a look that Derek was quickly becoming fond of), confusion on his face.

"I don't sleep with men, at all," Spencer said flatly, like it was common sense.

Derek's eyes widened.

"Oh," the older man said, dumbly. "Really?"

Spencer cringed and felt his face burning up. He didn't know why it bothered him that Derek just assumed he was some whore that'd sleep with any guy who asked. At least that's what the agent's surprise sounded like to him…

"I don't like men, Derek," Spencer said with a frown.

But then after a pause, he said, "At least I don't think I do. I dunno... I haven't really thought that much about stuff like that... I just...after all I've seen, I don't think I'd like it. But, thankfully I didn't have to do that to get where I am now. "

Derek was silent as he digested that information. Was Spencer really telling him he'd  _never_  slept with a man before? He found that hard to believe, especially knowing the seedy tastes the club catered to. But, for some reason, the thought that Spencer had been able to avoid selling himself in that way relieved Derek. It allowed him to think that maybe Spencer had been spared some of life's more traumatic experiences.

Seeing that Derek was silent, and taking it as a signal that the older man didn't truly believe him, Spencer floundered to justify himself.

"I don't do this because I l-like it, you know! I want you to understand that." Spencer said, turning wide-eyes on the mocha-skinned agent.

"Kid…I never thought you did," Derek said carefully. "But, I also don't want you to feel ashamed of where you ended up."

"I… I didn't want to end up here," Spencer said softly, face contorting as if he were in pain.

"I know that kid…" Derek said just as softly, unsure if his voice would break the dam holding back Spencer's emotions.

"I… I dropped out of school because my mom got really sick. My dad left us when I was 10, and for years it was just me taking care of her. Then when I went off to school, I…I couldn't be there for her and she…she got sicker and sicker. She really couldn't be trusted to take her medicine and she would have these episodes. She stopped going to work. And then when she  _wasn't_  having an episode, she made me feel really guilty about being away from her. I started to feel like I was abandoning her… just like my dad had done to us. So… I just couldn't take it anymore. I didn't like her being all alone and I… I really wanted to help take care of her… to make sure she was ok. So I dropped out and moved home…

"But… even though I had been seen as a genius all throughout my life and at school I had a rude awakening when I returned home. I was 15 and wasn't old enough to do most jobs. No one cared that I was really 'smart.' Legally, there were only a few types of places that could hire me. I couldn't do just one job and make enough money to pay the mortgage and utilities, feed us, and take care of other expenses. Not to mention my mother had to take a leave of absence from the University she was teaching at. So I worked twelve-hour days split between the supermarket, the library, and a bookstore.

"E-everything was really hard. I had never worked that hard in my life, and even with all that, it was almost impossible to make ends meet. We were piling up debt left and right and I was always terrified someone would notice and come t-take me away from my mom…" Spencer said, choking back a sob.

Derek's brow furrowed in concern, dismayed at what Spencer had to go through at such a young age. No one deserved something like that. He thought about how alone and how scared Spencer must have been.

"What…what about your father?" Derek asked carefully.

Spencer looked up at him, a glare apparent on his face, but it did little to distract from how shiny his caramel eyes were.

"I wanted nothing to do with him!" Spencer snapped.

"He abandoned us. He sent money for the first couple of months, but then it was just on birthdays and Christmas…and then nothing at all. I wasn't going to tell him we were struggling. He never cared about us before, why would he suddenly start caring just because things were hard? We were nothing to him…" Spencer said, trailing off.

Derek grimaced at having brought up such a bad memory and he knew he had touched on a subject that was obviously a sore spot with the kid.

"So… so what did you do?" Derek asked, almost afraid to voice the question. But he knew Spencer wanted to tell him. That was what this was all about. Spencer wanted to bare his soul. He wanted to lay bare his darkest secrets and know that Derek wouldn't push him away just because he saw Spencer for what he truly was.

Spencer looked up at him, those impossibly-large eyes glistening slightly with unshed tears as he opened and closed his mouth, as if unsure of where to start.

"It's ok, Spencer. You can tell me as much as you want… you don't owe me anything, you know? I'm just here to listen. Just… whatever you're comfortable with," Derek said as he laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, hoping to comfort him.

Spencer sighed deeply, feeling anxiety settling into his stomach. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully, and glanced down at his hands, folded in his lap. He couldn't look Derek in the eye. This seemed a lot harder than he thought it would. He suddenly felt trapped—like he couldn't get enough air.

Could he tell him? Did he even want to…? Did he want to bring back those memories, or worse, give voice to them? Wouldn't that make it real?

He thought back to the worst day of his life…

_~~~~~_

_Four Years Ago_

"Hey, Pretty Boy!" someone shouted on the busy street.

Ignoring the loud sounds around him as people rushed and bustled past him, Spencer continued to shuffle his way home, head down, backpack slung across his shoulder.

He was hurrying home, even though it was a Friday night. He had just left his job at the supermarket and he was exhausted. It was his second shift of the night, after he had finished up working at the library, and he had been on his feet for more than 12 hours that day. Although most fifteen-year-olds would probably be thinking about hanging out with their friends on a Friday night, all Spencer could think about was getting home to his mother.

Although Spencer did have a few friends at the supermarket (for once, he was actually around other kids his age), and they had begged and prodded him to go see a movie with them that night, his regret had been sincere when he declined. There had definitely been a second of longing where he had really wanted to accept—to go out and have fun for once, and to act like a normal kid. But then he remembered himself and realized that if he didn't go home, who would be there to make sure his mother remembered to eat her dinner? Shaking his head to clear it of these thoughts, he pulled his jacket a bit tighter around his shoulders and increased his pace.

"Pretty boy!" the voice was yelling again, closer now, accompanied by soft pants, like the person was out of breath. When a hand clamped down on his shoulder, Spencer almost jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to stare up into the grinning face of a tall stranger.

"Hey, kid! Hey! Relax! Don't look at me like I'm trying to kidnap you here," the man said with a good-natured smile and Spencer felt like he could relax a bit.

"D-did you need something?" the boy asked, eyes dropping down to his feet.

"Well… yea, didn't you hear me calling you? I said 'Pretty Boy' like six times! I had to run to catch up with you," the man said, smiling again and Spencer couldn't help but think he had a really attractive smile. He then flushed when his brain finally comprehended what the man had been saying.

"P-pretty boy?  _Me_?" Spencer asked, eyes wide behind the large frames of his glasses.

"Yeah, you, cutie," the man said as he winked at Spencer, causing Spencer's face to flame up and his heart to leap up into his throat. He had no idea what this man was talking about.

"Don't tell me no one's ever called you that before! You're so cute, you could be a model." The man continued, noticing that the boy's face had gone red and, it seemed, he was unable to form words.

"No way," Spencer finally said, thinking the guy was just making fun of him now.

"No, really. That's why I stopped you. I'm actually a talent scout. Here's my card," he said as he handed Spencer a slick, glossy white card.

Spencer took the card and glanced down at it. It read:  _Danny Wallace, Talent Scout, Xquisite, Inc._  Spencer furrowed his brow.  _Well, I guess it seems legit_ , he thought to himself. But he still couldn't understand the connection. Why did this man stop  _him_?

"I think you're just the kind of 'talent' we're looking for. That's why I stopped you," Danny said, as if he were reading Spencer's mind. Spencer blanched.

"I… I don't understand…" Spencer began but Danny cut him off.

"And, if you just come back to our offices, I can talk to you about some of the projects we have in mind for you." Danny continued. Before Spencer could turn the man down (he was sure the man would rethink his appraisal of him once he got him in front of real lights and realized he had made a glaring error in thinking the boy was 'cute'), Danny said something that got his attention immediately.

"And we pay really well. You could make upwards of $2000 in just one shoot."

Spencer's eyes widened.  _Two-THOUSAND dollars?_ He thought to himself. That was probably more than he made in a  _month_  doing his  _three_ part-time jobs.

Spencer had a strange feeling in his stomach, but he couldn't pass up an opportunity to at least  _hear_  about what this venture might mean. If he did something like this, all his troubles could be taken care of just like that.

"Um… um, I guess I could go to your office to t-talk about it?" he asked sheepishly, and he was rewarded with a wolfish grin.

"Great to hear, cutie," Danny said as he wrapped a firm arm around Spencer's shoulder. "Our offices are only a couple blocks away."

\------

When Spencer was led into the building, he couldn't help but think that the place wasn't what he had been expecting. The building had been a bit shabby from the outside, but the placard on the front had said "Xquisite Inc.," so he pushed down his reservations. Inside, the hallways were dimly-lit by track-lighting, and as Danny led him past a number of closed doors that Spencer assumed led to offices, he glanced curiously at the framed posters on the wall. Many of the posters featured voluptuous-looking women in provocative outfits. Not having seen many things like that up close, Spencer shyly averted his eyes. But it was Vegas, and he knew that many showgirls dressed like that as part of their acts, so he disregarded them and kept his eyes trained in front of him.

He felt Danny squeeze his shoulder as they came to a stop in front of one of the doors at the end of the hallway. Danny then knocked lightly on the door and a deep voice from within called "Come!"

Pushing open the door, Danny ushered Spencer into a large office. It was lavishly, albeit a bit garishly, adorned. Sitting directly across from the door was a large, overweight man giving them a stern look. He had dark, greasy black hair and sported a number of rings on his thick fingers. He looked to be in his mid-to-late 40's and was wearing a flashy suit. Spencer swallowed nervously.

"Hey, Demetri, I just found this cute kid walking around downtown. I told him we could really use someone like him in some of our new projects." Danny said as he patted Spencer on the shoulder.

Demetri stared at Spencer, eyes slowly roving up and down the young boy's form. It made Spencer's skin crawl, and he felt himself subconsciously drawing closer to Danny. The man then smiled widely.

"Yes, yes. He's very cute indeed. I like what I'm seeing," Demetri said, grinning at the boy in front of him. "I think he'd be great on camera."

"Great to hear," Danny said with a laugh, "Well I'll leave you to it then."

Spencer turned around in shock as he heard Danny open the door.

"W-wait! Where're you going?" Spencer asked.

"Well, you have to interview to get a job, right? I can't be here for that. I'm sure you'll do great, kid." Danny said with a wink.

Then he was gone. And Spencer was left all alone with 'Demetri.'

Swallowing nervously, Spencer looked everywhere but at the imposing man sitting in front of him.

"Take a seat," the man said firmly, and Spencer jumped. Not knowing what else to do, the boy inched slowly to one of the two plush armchairs situated in front of the mammoth desk and slid into the seat.

"You're really, cute," Demetri purred again.

Although he hadn't felt flattered by the man's words, Spencer just forced a slight smile and continued to stare at his hands.

"What's your name, kid?" Demetri asked after a pause.

"S-Spencer," he breathed out.

"And… how old are you,  _Spencer_?" Demetri asked, eyes getting a little bit darker.

"Um… I'm 15," Spencer responded.

"Hmm… 15? Wow. You look even younger than that. I guess it's the glasses… and the hair. You don't look like regular teens, you know?" Demetri said.

"Uh… sorry?" Spencer said sheepishly.

"No, no. Don't apologize. I like you like that. You look very innocent," Demetri said.

Spencer noticed a hard edge to the man's voice and looked up. He felt his stomach twist into a knot at the way Demetri was looking at him. Something just felt… off.

"Are you  _innocent_ , Spencer?" Demetri asked as he trained his dark eyes on the boy's light brown ones.

Spencer furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I… um… I don't really know what you mean…" Spencer stuttered out.

Demetri rose to his feet and Spencer immediately felt intimidated by the man's height. His wide eyes watched the older man stalk toward him, making him feel like a caged animal.

"I think you'd be very good in my pictures, Spencer… even in movies," Demetri said, looming over the boy.

Spencer bit his lip as he looked up at the man. He was starting to feel like he had really made a big mistake. He was scared… he didn't want to be there anymore.

"Do you know what kind of pictures we shoot here, Spencer?" Demetri continued.

Spencer shook his head.

"The kind where you take your clothes off…. Where you let everyone see how sexy you can be. I think you'd be really good doing something like that, Spencer," the man said as he stood right over the boy.

Spencer's eyes widened in horror.

_Take my clothes off!?_  He thought, feeling his stomach twist into knots.

"I… I don't… I think I need to-" he whimpered out as he tried to get to his feet, but Demetri placed a large hand on his shoulder and forced him back into his seat.

"Yes… you'll do very well. I like that look in your eyes, Spencer. I like those lips, too. You've got  _very_ nice lips. But before I can give you any work, you need to show me what you can do. It's my payment for getting you into the 'business.'" Demetri said, as he squeezed Spencer's shoulder causing the boy to gasp in pain.

"I… I don't want to do that. I'm sorry… Please, I want to go home!" Spencer said as he struggled against the strong man holding him in place.

"Go home? Spencer, don't be a tease," the man growled with a mean grin as he used his free hand to begin unbuckling his belt.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Spencer squeaked out, feeling panic setting in.

"Get on your knees, boy," Demetri demanded.

"No!" Spencer shouted as he pushed against Demetri with all his might and managed to get to his feet. But before Spencer could get around the man, he felt a fist collide with his face. Stunned, he staggered and tumbled to the floor. He could taste blood in his mouth. Before he could regain his bearings, Demetri's hand fisted into his hair and yanked his head back, hard.

"Open your mouth, boy," Demetri demanded, breathing hard.

"P-please let me go," Spencer sobbed.

But his pleas fell on deaf ears, as Demetri dragged him to his knees and positioned the boy's head in front of his lap. Trembling in fear, Spencer refused to open his eyes, and tried to pull away from the strong grip. But Demetri grabbed Spencer's jaw, pressing into the quickly forming bruise, and causing Spencer to cry out in pain.

Spencer then felt the man's thick, salty appendage being shoved past his lips and into his throat. He tried to pull away, gagging at the taste and feel, but Demetri's painful grip on his hair prevented his movement. He couldn't breathe as the man began to thrust into his mouth, indifferent to his struggles and muffled protests. He scratched and pushed against the man's legs to free himself, but it was of no use.

Hot tears ran down his face as his mouth and throat were abused by the sweaty panting man towering over him. His stomach churned in protest as he could taste more and more salty fluid flowing into his mouth. Then Demetri grabbed his head with both hands, gripping him tightly as he picked up his pace, thrusting violently. Spencer's whimpers of protest fell on deaf ears, and he feared he would choke to death in this dingy office. Suddenly, however, Demetri let out a shout and Spencer's mouth was flooded with copious amounts of thick liquid.

Spent, Demetri pulled back, releasing Spencer, who immediately proceeded to vomit on the floor. Coughing and sputtering, the boy wiped at his mouth with shaking hands. Staring, unseeing, at the floor with wide eyes, he trembled. He couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Shit, the sound of you retching really killed the mood, kid," Demetri's voice came from above him, as he began to re-buckle his belt. "I really would have wanted to test that ass of yours out, but I guess there's always next time."

Spencer couldn't help it as he let out a shaky sob. He didn't want to start crying again. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. But he couldn't get his legs to work. It was like he was frozen in place.

"But… I liked that mouth of yours. Sure, you could use some practice. But I kind of like that clumsiness of yours. Very sexy." Demetri said, almost in a sing-song voice, as he made his way behind his desk.

Spencer listened as he heard the man rustling around in his drawer and then flinched as something was tossed down by his hands.

"That's your payment, kid. $500 for a job well done. I think you'll definitely go far here. And if you come back and let me take a crack at that ass, I'll really make it worth your while." Demetri said, the leer apparent in his voice.

Spencer stared in shock at the wad of money sitting in front of him. He was appalled that that man ( _beast_  was probably a more fitting word) thought he could  _pay_  for what he had just subjected him to. It had been disgusting and demeaning. But… $500… he couldn't just leave the money there, knowing how far it would go to supplement his already scarce finances. And, in any case, he thought to himself, after what had been done to him… didn't he deserve it?

With trembling hands, he reached out and closed his hand around the wad of cash, trying to tamp down his shame.

"Hmm… seeing you like that on your hands and knees… it's making me hot again," Demetri purred from his place behind the desk.

A jolt of fear shot through Spencer, and he scrambled to his feet. Face flushed, he quickly rushed to the door, avoiding looking Demetri in the eye. As his hand fell on the doorknob the man's voice echoed from behind him.

"Wait, Spencer," Demetri said.

Spencer didn't really know why he stopped. He didn't think Demetri could make it across the desk and to the door before he could leave, but he was still terrified nonetheless. His face throbbed from the punch he had received, not to mention the soreness in his mouth and throat from the man's rough assault. He was afraid Demetri would hurt him again if he didn't listen.

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" Demetri asked, voice almost a purr.

Flinching at the man's words, but afraid to displease him, Spencer quickly swallowed down his disgust.

"Th-thank you," he murmured softly, fighting back the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes.

Without waiting another second, he swung the door open and rushed out into the hallway. Hearing the door slam behind him, he looked up and was surprised to see Danny leaning against the wall in the hallway. Spencer's honey-colored eyes widened in shock.

_He was here the whole time and he… he did_ _ **nothing**_ _?_ Spencer thought to himself.

Danny gave Spencer a forced smile.

"So, I'm guessing everything went alright? Demetri liked you, didn't he? Now you can start doing some photos and making the big cash. Sounds good, doesn't it?" he asked as he reached out to touch Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer recoiled before the man could touch him.

Without waiting to hear anything more that Danny had to say, Spencer pushed past the man and ran out of the building.

\------

It was late when Spencer finally made it into his house. All the lights were out. Spencer knew his mother had already gone to sleep.

_She probably didn't even know I was missing_ , he thought to himself, feeling his chest squeeze painfully.

But he was also slightly thankful for this. He had no idea what he looked like and would have been ashamed for his mother to have seen him this way. He also knew that, if she was having one of her good days, she would be able to tell something was wrong immediately. And there was no way he wanted to tell her what had happened. He didn't want  _anyone_  to know. Ever.

Making his way silently up the stairs, Spencer quickly ran into the bathroom and started the shower. As he waited for the water to heat up (as hot as it could get) he made a pointed effort to avoid looking in the mirror. As he stripped off his clothes and dropped them to the floor, he saw the thick wad of cash fall out of his pants pocket. Hesitating for a moment before picking it up, Spencer tried to ignore the thoughts flooding his head.

On one hand, he wanted absolutely no reminders about what had happened to him. If he could have his way he would never think of this day ever again. It would just disappear, like a bad dream. On the other hand… this was a lot of money. And if he could… if he could just be more careful next time, doing things like 'that' might be a useful way to make money when he was in a pinch. Not using his  _mouth,_ though. He would never want to do that again. But they had talked about pictures. Spencer was sure he could take pictures… It was just getting too hard to juggle all those jobs, especially since it meant he would be spending most of the day away from his mother. Something had to give…

Taking a seat on the closed toilet as steam started to fill the room, Spencer stared down at the money he gripped in his hand.

_If I do this again… it's going to be on my terms_ , he thought to himself.  _No one's going to get me alone like that again... no one's going to hurt me. I won't let them…_

Tossing the wad on to the counter top, Spencer got to his feet and yanked back the shower curtain.

Stepping in, and bracing himself against the scalding water, Spencer began to wash, hoping he could wash all the memories away.

~~~~~

Staring off silently, Spencer was brought back to the present by the feeling of Derek's hands on his shoulders, shaking him.

"Kid, you ok?" Derek asked.

When Spencer's eyes focused, he took in the sight of Derek's concerned dark-brown eyes staring into his own.

"Um… what?" Spencer asked, as he blinked a few times.

"You started telling me about the jobs you were working and your dad and then… well, kid, you just kind of zoned out…" Derek said, frowning.

Derek knew the signs clearly. Spencer had been having a flashback. And by the way the boy's shoulders had tensed and his eyes had glazed over, he was sure that whatever the kid had been seeing wasn't anything pleasant.

Spencer sighed heavily, mind wandering back to those painful memories. He didn't think Derek needed to know  _everything_. He wanted Derek to understand him, not pity him. And the person he had been four years ago was a weak, naïve little boy. Now, Spencer was an adult. He knew better and he had grown up a lot over the past four years.

Looking up at the concerned agent, Spencer steeled himself, determined not to let his emotions show.

"When I was younger… I was tricked by this talent scout. I stupidly followed him to this studio… and I got forced to blow the manager there. He gave me money afterwards and told me I could work for him… take pictures and stuff. I never went back to him, because I couldn't trust him…. He was a disgusting asshole. But being able to make so much money so quickly was something I had never heard of. And… I needed money really badly then. So… I found other people who did that kind of thing and I did some pictures and some solo videos when money got really tight." Spencer said flatly.

Derek stared at the boy with wide eyes. Spencer had told that story with such a lack of emotion. He couldn't believe that the boy was so unaffected. It was an act. Derek knew… it brought back painful memories, but Derek  _knew_  what it was like to be forced…

"Spencer, did any of these other people do anything to you?" Derek asked, voice hard.

"Um… I tried really hard to never be alone with the guys who were doing the shoots. But... sometimes it was unavoidable and when things got too… scary… well, I tried to get out of it by talking. And if they didn't want to talk… um… then I'd offer to… you know, use my mouth." Spencer said, face flushed in embarrassment.

"But that was only a few times, and really…it's no big deal. At least no one ever fucked me," Spencer said dismissively, but there was an obviously hard edge to his voice.

"How…young are we talking about here?" Derek asked, the furrow in his brow clearly giving away his displeasure with the things Spencer had just disclosed.

Spencer rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet and sighed, but it was obvious he was avoiding meeting Derek's eyes. He knew exactly what was concerning Derek. Business as usual.

"Please. There's no point in lingering on that, Mr. Law Enforcement." Spencer said derisively, as he began to pace the living room.

Derek watched the boy carefully, sure that he was unaware he was giving away such telling signs of anxiety in his body language.

"And it's not like I'm going to give you any names, anyway. I was young… too young for that kind of shit, but who  _cares?_ It's part of the territory…. Kind of like initiation." Spencer continued with a shrug.

_And now he's pretending like it doesn't matter_ , Derek observed to himself.

"Anyway… it's like I said, no one raped me. So whatever," Spencer said as he threw up his hands in frustration, and, turning away from Derek, stormed into the kitchen. He couldn't look at him anymore. The agent had been silent for so long during his rambling tirade that Spencer wasn't sure what he was thinking. He regretted saying anything and now he just wished they could change the subject.

"It's  **not**  whatever, Spencer!" Derek growled as he got to his feet and stormed after the boy into the kitchen. "How  _old_  were you when these bastards did these things to you?"

Spencer flinched at Derek's tone, and even though he tried to put on a smile his lip trembled a bit. "Jeeze, I was… like 15, I think. I dunno, it was a long time ago." Spencer said as he backed up into a corner of the kitchen. With Derek's large body and scowling face, the kitchen suddenly seemed a lot smaller.

"That was  _only_  four years ago, Spencer. Jesus Christ! You're a victim! You can still report those sons of bitches." Derek informed him, anger still tinging his voice. He could see that Spencer felt intimidated, and looked like an animal backed into a corner, so he tried to reel in his anger, but it bothered him so much.  _Why does this kid talk like he thinks he isn't worth anything_? Derek wondered. The thought, itself, was painful.

Still anxious in his cornered position, but attempting to assert himself as he leaned against the countertop, Spencer locked eyes with Derek.

"Like I told you, I'm not giving you any names. And you can't make me! That kind of thing is par for the course and I'm  _over_  it. I'm  _not_  a fucking victim. I wasn't raped; I just had to give some unpleasant blowjobs. But I'm not that stupid anymore. And no one can force me to do things like that ever again." Spencer said, his voice almost rising to a shout.

Derek was stunned for a second, wondering why Spencer was so defensive. How could he not think of himself as having been victimized? How could he think he had just been 'stupid,' Derek wondered to himself. And Derek knew that this mentality was keeping Spencer from blaming the real people responsible.  _None_  of what had happened to him had been his fault.

All Derek could think of was why, if Spencer could still do something about those who had hurt him, wouldn't he take advantage of that chance? But, then Derek thought about himself… and  _his_  personal demons. And all of this suddenly seemed too familiar. He had never shared with anyone what had happened to him when he was 14. Derek always told himself that saying something now wasn't worth the trouble. There was no way that man could be prosecuted for anything… so what was the point? And then suddenly, Derek was wondering to himself if he was using a double standard with Spencer. Was he only trying to force Spencer to confront his demons because Spencer was younger and Derek felt he knew more than the kid? Was it because he had  _lived_ more? Or was he somehow living vicariously through the boy, trying to vanquish his own demons because he knew he no longer could?

He was almost 29 now, and even with so many years having passed he still sometimes woke up at night covered in a cold sweat, heart in his throat, haunted by memories of a once-trusted man-turned-monster. He  _still_ hadn't dealt with it. And for Spencer, his demons were fresher. He had experienced this all merely four years ago. There was no way the boy had 'dealt' with it yet. And Derek knew that the little Spencer had shared with him was probably only the tip of a much larger iceberg. Spencer was 15 when he had first been assaulted and had made the decision to embark into the seedy world of the skin trade. There was nothing and no one to protect him. What had transpired between that point and now? What had he had to endure before he ended up at  _Mon Petit Chien_ , where he could dance behind the protective glass and out of the reach of the monsters who would torment him?

Spencer's sigh drew Derek out of his thoughts and he watched as the cornered boy ran a hand wearily over his face and through his hair. Spencer wouldn't look at him.

"If I had known you were going to be this way I never would've told you..." Spencer murmured softly, eyes trained on the floor.

Realizing he was pushing Spencer away, Derek let out a heavy sigh of his own. This was not the time for Derek to tackle his own demons; not the time to make Spencer face his either. Right now, Spencer was hurting and Derek needed to do what he could for the boy in this moment.

Moving in closer to the tense boy, so that there were scant inches between their bodies, Derek placed one hand on the back of Spencer's head, and the other on the boy's back and pulled him in close. At first Spencer tensed and tried to struggle but when it dawned on him that Derek had simply enveloped him in a hug, he relaxed, letting his arms drop limply to his sides.

Breathing softly into Derek's neck, Spencer let out a soft chuckle.

"For the muscle-bound alpha male type, you really are such a sap," Spencer teased, voice muffled by Derek's shoulder.

Derek laughed slightly as he softly ran his fingers through the younger man's hair.

"I don't think it's being a sap if you give someone a hug when you know they really need one."

Spencer let out an irritated-sounding huff, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tentatively raised his arms and sunk his fingers into the fabric of Derek's shirt. Saying nothing, he just let himself be held.

"Kid…" Derek said after a few moments of silence. The feel of Spencer's slight body in his arms had begun to feel too comforting… too "right." He knew he had to regain control of the situation.

"I'm proud of you for telling me what you did. I know it wasn't easy. I also know there's a lot more you're probably keeping to yourself," Derek said, and felt the boy flinch almost instantly.

"But, you don't' have to tell me that—now, or ever." Derek said as he immediately began stroking Spencer's back, easing the tension with every sweep of his fingers.

"I just want you to know that if you ever want to… I'm here, ok? You can tell me anything." Derek offered.

Saying nothing, Spencer just nodded, and Derek resumed carding his fingers through the boy's silky hair.

"And I'm going to do my best to make sure no one hurts you again. Starting with this son of a bitch Unsub," Derek said as he gripped the boy a bit tighter.

Spencer pulled back a bit and looked up at the sincere agent. His caramel-colored eyes searched the older man's darker ones and he knew, without him saying anything, that Derek had made a promise to himself. That he really intended to do anything he could for Spencer. What he saw there was genuine devotion. And it was shocking.

Looking away, Spencer felt his heart hammering and his ears burning. He tried to convince himself not to read into that. Derek was devoted to solving the  _case_ —he was devoted to making sure Spencer didn't get killed, but it was unlikely that he had any interest in him outside of the purviews of his job and his commitment to right the wrongs in the world.

Stepping out of the agent's comforting arms, Spencer smiled up at him to assuage any of his concern.

"That's a tall order you have to fill, then," he said, forcing himself to laugh. "I'm sure you can't do it running on a couple of hours of sleep like you've been doing. Let me help you set up the couch."

Smiling at the boy, and understanding that it would take time for the boy to fully trust and rely on him, Derek nodded. They would have time.

* * *

A/N: Ah, so there we have it. Poor Spencer, huh? Well, things can always get better. Fingers crossed?

Let me know your thoughts; love to hear from you! xoxo


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor am I am making any profit off of this work.

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews, favorites/subscriptions, and support! And thanks to Eskimita, my esteemed beta-reader!

I'm happy you came back for another chapter and I'm glad no one wants to string me up yet for all the bad things I keep doing to our poor Spencer. But, I intend to ease off the personal traumas in this chapter to give you guys a breather. When I wrote the first draft of this chapter it was  **50 pages**! Ack! But after some serious consideration, I decided it would make more sense if I broke it up into parts. So this will be the first part of the day, and Chapter 8 will follow up with the evening.

Unfortunately there's no real Derek-Spencer 'romantic' contact in this chapter (ah! Don't hurt me!). But of course, that doesn't mean they won't be  _thinking_ about each other. I figure we're more honest in our heads than we are out loud most of the time, anyway ;p. This will be mostly a case & character development chapter but I did try to add a little humor, a little mystery & intrigue, and a little personal realization on Spencer's part. Hope you like it!

* * *

Derek groaned groggily as he turned over, throwing an arm over his eyes in displeasure. He had been awoken by a combination of the persistent sunlight shining into his eyes and the fact that his neck and back were aching. Shifting slightly, and wincing as his lower back complained, Derek sighed and opened his eyes.

_The kid wasn't playing when he said this couch was uncomfortable,_  he thought to himself.  _Probably would've been better if I had slept on the floor…_

Although his night had been uncomfortable, Derek was just glad that his sleep had been dreamless. He wasn't sure how he would have coped if he had been plagued by yet another X-rated 'Spencer-featurette' when the boy was sleeping just a few feet away from him. Derek was already doing all that he could to keep that very embarrassing information from the boy, and with Spencer's sharp intellect Derek doubted he would believe another weak 'I'm going through some personal things' excuse from him. But, Derek would rather not spend his time dwelling on  _that_  difficult issue at the present moment.

Sitting up, and rubbing at his cramped muscles with one hand, he fumbled around on the table to retrieve his cellphone. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew it couldn't be too late in the morning since his alarm hadn't gone off yet.

Closing his hand around the phone, and swiping the screen he saw that it was only 7:35. He also noticed that he had a few text messages from Emily.

_J.J. & I are headed over to switch with you now; should be there by 8._

_Hotch wants you back at the station by 9, btw_

_Don't worry, we come bearing coffee & donuts ;p_

_Ask Spencer what time he's heading into work today_

Groaning, Derek tossed the phone back on the table. Not that the idea of coffee and donuts didn't sound great. He was just frustrated at himself for already feeling reluctant to leave Spencer. He knew there was no way he could do his job if he spent all his time with the boy. And he trusted J.J. and Emily in his absence. He just would feel better about it if  _he_  was the one doing it.

Thinking back to last night, he was pleased by how things had turned out between him and Spencer. After the boy had wormed his way out of his embrace and made his way into the living room, he had busied himself with trying to get things tidied up. Derek had had to tell the boy to relax and that he wouldn't need very much to get comfortable for the night. But even with this attempt at placating, Spencer had seemed like a chicken with its head cut off. Well, a baby chick, that was. The kid had seemed somewhat nervous, as if he was using the pretense of tidying up as a way to expel his pent up energy. But Derek had chalked that up to Spencer's understandable discomfort with having shared such a big secret with someone like Derek, followed by what was probably an unexpected show of physical affection.

It had taken a bit of convincing, but Derek had talked Spencer into leaving the mess on the table and settling down with him on the couch. Derek had grabbed the remote and flicked on Spencer's old TV and when he landed on a bad sci-fi movie, Spencer had seemed to finally relax. Then the boy had become much more talkative, as he prattled off about ways in which the physics in the movie could have been made to appear more realistic. Two movies, and almost three hours later, Spencer had nodded off and Derek found himself shaking the boy awake. Groggy and disoriented, Spencer had trudged into his bedroom without putting up much of a fight. Derek was thankful for that. He wasn't sure he could deal with a hyperactive Spencer again, especially since it was approaching 11 pm. But, knowing that the boy would appreciate it, Derek made quick work of clearing away the empty takeout containers and tidying up the living room before he himself had settled in for the night.

Shaking his head to clear it of the surprisingly pleasant memories from the night before, Derek decided he should probably get Spencer up before Emily and J.J. arrived. He got to his feet and stretched, pleased to hear the satisfying cracking in his back and neck. He then made his way through the small apartment and paused outside of Spencer's door. Raising his hand, he lightly brought his knuckles down on the door two times. Hearing nothing, he frowned slightly to himself and his thoughts started to race. Was Spencer just a heavy sleeper or… had he pulled another disappearing act? Quickly tossing that idea out, Derek told himself that  _he_  was a light sleeper and there was no way Spencer would have made it through the living room and out the door without him having woken up.

Sighing in frustration, Derek knocked on the door again, this time with more force. He heard slight shuffling from behind the door, but there was no response. Rolling his eyes, the agent knocked again.

"Spencer?" Derek called, making sure his voice would carry through the door. "Time to get up, kid! J.J. & Emily are on their way over, and you don't want them to find you still in bed, do you?"

Still receiving no verbal response, but hearing a bit more rustling coming from behind the door, Derek decided he had had enough.

"I'm coming in, kid, so you better be decent," Derek announced, as he turned the doorknob and pushed his way into the room.

Derek would be lying if he said he didn't find the scene in front of him somewhat adorable. Spencer was lying on his stomach, slightly propped up on his elbows, tangled amongst his sheets and blanket, hair sticking up in all directions as he blinked at Derek with squinting, tired eyes.

"What do you  _want_?" Spencer groaned as he flopped back down on to the pillow and attempted to throw the covers back over his head.

"Hey, I'm trying to do you a favor," Derek said with a chuckle. "You're going to have a whole lot of company in a couple of minutes."

"…'s  _really_  early," Spencer's muffled voice came from beneath the covers.

Derek pondered on that for a moment. Seven forty-five was considered too early? It wasn't like he was waking the kid up at  _five_. On the other hand, Spencer  _did_  work nights.

"Sorry about that," Derek said as he stepped further into the room. "But, like I said, I really doubt you want to still be sleeping when J.J. & Emily get here. You can go back to bed once they're all settled, but for right now, let's try to get up, huh?"

Another frustrated sigh sounded from beneath the covers, but then Spencer threw the sheets back and sat up, casting an angry glare in the agent's direction.

"Well, it's not like I can go back to sleep with you going on and on," Spencer said as he blindly felt around on his nightstand.

Catching on that the boy was looking for his glasses, Derek quickly stepped up to the bedside table and, finding the glasses, handed them over.

Spencer stared at the tall agent for a moment, as he closed his hand around the pair of glasses, but silently accepted them. Shifting his body so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, Spencer pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and pushed his messy hair back from his face. Glancing down at himself, Spencer cleared his throat and gripped the sheets slightly, like he was considering pulling them back over himself.

"Um… well, I'm up now… so, you can go… I have to get dressed," Spencer mumbled.

Derek was surprised. It wasn't like Spencer had been sleeping in the nude. Far from it actually. The kid had been wearing an old, over-sized t-shirt that would slip down now and then showing a bit of his shoulder, and a pair of pajama pants. To Derek, Spencer seemed to be more self-conscious in casual clothes than he did in the club. But, who was he to argue?

"Yeah… no problem, kid. I just need to know what time you're heading to work today," Derek said with a small smile.

"Huh?" Spencer asked, still blinking tiredly. "Oh… Four… I go in for four today."

"Alright. I'll let the girls know. I'll be waiting out in the living room for you, ok?" Derek said trying to hold back his chuckle as he backed out of Spencer's room and closed the door behind him.

Derek walked back into the living room and began to get his things in order when he heard Spencer's bedroom door softly creak open, the sound of what seemed to be quickly-shuffling feet, and then a second later the sound of another door slamming shut. Before he could think of what Spencer was doing he heard the familiar sound of water running and chuckled to himself. The kid had literally  _run_  from his bedroom to the bathroom, like he was trying to avoid Derek catching sight of him.  _That's one strange kid_ , Derek thought amusedly.

About fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded from the front door. As Derek got to his feet, his hand instinctually went to his waist to feel for the presence of his sidearm, and confirming that he was armed, he walked to the door. Glancing through the peephole he immediately recognized the blonde and brunette standing on the opposite side of the door, and quickly opened it.

"Hey, Morgan," Emily said with a smile as she leaned forward, holding her arms out.

Derek could see that both J.J. and Emily were hefting large file boxes. J.J. had a tray of four coffees balanced on top of her box and Emily had what looked to be a large white pastry box on top of hers. Surprised that they had juggled all those items up the stairs, Derek quickly relieved them of the boxes while the two women took charge of the food containers.

Walking in first, followed by J.J. and Derek, Emily glanced around.

"Where's Spencer?" she asked.

"Still in the shower. Kid's not really a morning person," Derek said with a light chuckle as he placed the boxes on the counter.

J.J. smiled at the thought.

"Not surprising though," she said, "his job basically requires him to be nocturnal."

Derek nodded in agreement.

"So, Hotch wants us to take over for you for most of the day while you help him and Rossi out at the station. We're expected to keep ourselves busy going through these boxes. It's a good portion of the California cases," J.J. explained as she tapped the top of one of the large boxes. Emily groaned her displeasure at their upcoming workload and began to unpack their breakfast and coffees.

"Did you get an idea of when Spencer needs to head into work?" Emily asked as she glanced up at Derek.

"Yeah, kid says he starts at four," Derek informed them.

"Ok, we figured it'd be something like that. Hotch says we can switch off again then. We'll keep you guys posted on anything that's going down over here, but I'm sure we'll have a pretty quiet morning," J.J. told him.

Derek nodded silently, absorbing that information. He hadn't known that Hotch would let him take over watching Spencer during his shift at the club. He was appreciative of that fact. Spencer could be in a lot more danger when he was out in public, especially in the same location where the Unsub had killed his last victim.

"So, how was your night?" J.J. asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Any contact from the Unsub?" Emily chimed in.

"Nope, things were pretty quiet here, actually. I was expecting that creep to try something, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed that I couldn't give him a piece of my mind… or fist, to be more exact," Derek huffed out.

Emily rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, I know this Unsub's got all you alpha males in a tizzy. Hotch was more than just a little snippy this morning, as well," she quipped.

Derek rolled his eyes back at her.

"This has nothing to do with my pride," Derek defended himself, as he reached over for one of the coffees.

"If you say so," Emily said, her smile indicating that she didn't believe a word he was saying.

Before Derek could retort, the three agents heard the bathroom door creak open and instinctively turned their heads to stare down the hallway. They were all met with the sight of a flushed and dripping wet Spencer Reid, the light-blue towel wrapped around his waist the only thing concealing his pale body from their eyes.

Upon sight of them, Spencer's face contorted into an embarrassed grimace. He had obviously not expected his kitchen to be full of FBI agents.

"Uh…hi...g-good morning? I'm… gonna go…" Spencer squeaked out as he motioned towards his bedroom and turned on his heel, scurrying off down the hall.

J.J. and Emily laughed quietly to themselves, trying to keep their voices down lest the embarrassed teen hear them. Derek on the other hand caught himself still staring down the hallway after the boy.  _That_  image hadn't been helpful to him.

Although it had only been a few brief seconds, his mind had already saved a mental image of the boy's wet, light brown hair, already slightly curling at the edges, his wide, surprised eyes and round mouth curved into an 'oh' of surprise. Not to mention that Derek's eyes had had enough time to follow a stray droplet of water as it curved down Spencer's pale neck, rolled over his prominent collarbone, and had slowly dripped down the boy's left pectoral muscle. His eyes had roved further down the smooth, but lightly muscled abdominals and traced the light, almost blonde hairs that trailed down below the boy's belly button and disappeared into the snug towel. He found himself wondering what it would be like to  _lick_  the droplets of water off of Spencer's body…

_What is wrong with me_? Derek asked himself as he dragged his hands over his face, and focused his attention back on his amused colleagues, thankful that they hadn't caught him staring.

"Spencer's  _adorable_ ," J.J. mused as she started preparing her coffee, "he gets so embarrassed so easily. It's hard to believe he strips for a living."

"I know. He is  _really_  cute though. I don't even think he realizes it," Emily cooed.

Derek was silent as he listened to the two agents, aware of the fact that he was almost outright glaring at them. Noticing his silence, the two women glanced at him.

"Jeeze, Morgan, we get that you probably don't like the idea of us sitting here going on and on about eye candy, but you could try to look a little  _less_  disgusted. Let the girls have some fun once in a while," Emily said as she shoved his shoulder.

Derek groaned in annoyance as he shook her hand off.

"I don't really care," he groused. "I just don't think it's super appropriate for women who are almost 10 years older than him to be talking about him like that. On top of being FBI Agents."

"Whoa, whoa," J.J. complained, blue eyes growing wide. "It's closer to  _five_  years older in my case, and besides, it's not like we're being serious. We're not interested in him like  _that_. I mean, come on, he's a teenager. It's not like we'd try to put the moves on him. Especially not if he's involved in a case."

"Yeah, you jerk. What's the big deal throwing ages around, anyway. I'm basically the same age as you. I've seen you going after girls who are  _barely_ in their 20's all the time. So don't start with the holier-than-though spiel right now," Emily said to him, her displeasure apparent.

Derek looked away from his offended colleagues guiltily, knowing that he had basically just projected his own insecurities on to them. And it hadn't helped hearing them voice the same reasons he knew to be true about why looking at Spencer Reid in any romantic light would be unwise. And 'unwise' would be putting it lightly. Stupid would probably be a better word. Thinking of Spencer as anything more than a witness in a case would be monumentally  _stupid_.

Derek was saved from having to answer the piercing look of his friends when they heard the bedroom door open again. Spencer had saved him. However, in Derek's case, it was more like out of the frying pan and into the fire. Spencer's presence brought with it a whole slew of other problems.

Watching as the boy approached, Derek took in his appearance. Today it was baggy jeans and a long-sleeved dark plaid button-down. Spencer's hair still looked slightly damp, as if he had tried to dry it as best he could with a towel but it would still take a while. Derek found himself thinking of how much he liked Spencer's hair without the product he used to keep the unruly curls in place.

"Morning, guys," Spencer said shyly as he walked up next to Emily and J.J. "Sorry about… um… earlier."

"No problem," Emily said with a genuine smile. "It was definitely a nice early morning pick-me-up."

She then winked at him, causing Spencer to blush.

"Ugh, Emily," J.J said shaking her head and laughing.

"Do you want some coffee, Spencer?" J.J. offered as she picked up the last remaining cup in the holder.

The idea of coffee was apparently very agreeable to Spencer, as he nodded his head and happily reached out to relieve her of the cup.

"And help yourself to some breakfast too," she offered as she popped open the large, rectangular box, unveiling a dozen sweet pastries.

"Oh wow," Spencer said in delight as he leaned over to get a better look at the treats.

Derek found himself smiling at Spencer's endearing behavior. It was easy to forget all the turmoil rolling around in his head when Spencer was smiling. Suddenly, a sharp beeping drew everyone's attention and Derek reached down to his pocket, where the noise was coming from. It was his phone's alarm. It was 8:15.

"Oh man," Derek said as he glanced down at the screen. "I've gotta head out now if I'm going to be able to run back to the hotel, get cleaned up and be back at the precinct before Hotch loses it."

Nodding with sympathetic smiles, the other two agents agreed with him.

Derek pushed away from the counter and hurried into the living room, kneeling to the ground and hurriedly gathering his things. He could hear Spencer and the girls in the kitchen as they chatted and dug into the pastries. Derek was reluctant to leave, but he continued to tell himself that everything would be fine. The Unsub had never struck in the daylight so there was no reason to think that Spencer would be in any more danger than usual. Pushing himself to his feet, Derek affixed his watch to his wrist and checked his sidearm again.

"You better get out of here, Morgan," Emily said as she walked into the living room and tapped her own watch. Spencer and J.J. had followed behind her.

"I know, I know," Derek complained.

"Here," J.J said with a smile as she handed over Derek's untouched cup of coffee and one of the pastries wrapped in a napkin.

"Thanks," Derek said offering a small smile of his own.

The group walked over to the door and Derek hesitated for a second.

"You guys know that if you need anything, I'm just a phone call away, right?" he asked as he stood facing them, one hand on the door.

"Derek," J.J. said with an amused tone as she placed her hand on Spencer's shoulder, "we'll be  _fine_! You don't have to worry about us. Right, Spencer?"

Spencer smiled at the serious-looking agent standing across from him.

"Yeah, we'll be fine," he said softly, feeling slightly touched by the agent's concern.

Nodding, but still feeling as if leaving was the last thing he should be doing, Derek forced a smile and made himself leave.

* * *

It was a quarter past 9 when Derek rushed into the LVPD station. Making his way into the conference room that was currently on loan to his team, Derek gained the attention of Hotch, Rossi and Detective Ryan Stone. Hotch nodded at Derek, acknowledging the man's presence and flipped open a case file, ready to get to work.

"We've asked Detective Stone to sit in with us and give us a bit more information on the last time the Unsub killed in Vegas," Hotch said, as Derek got situated.

Derek glanced over at the man in question. He hadn't had much of an opportunity to spend time with Stone, and this was the first time he had really observed him. Stone was a serious-looking man of average height and weight. His hair was completely slate-gray, even though his face seemed to show that he couldn't be any older than 40. Accompanying the gray hair were deep creases around the corners of his eyes. The hardened appearance was often the result of many years dedicated to law enforcement. Derek had seen that many times before.

"I'm more than a little worried that the Judgment Maker has reared his head in Vegas again," Stone said, somberly. "I've had my guys hitting the streets looking for any witnesses from the strip club, but everyone's got the same story: 'I didn't see nothin'.' It's like this guy's a damn ghost."

The other three men in the room nodded silently.

"He's very good at what he's doing," Rossi said. "He's had time to practice."

"But to kill someone in such a public place, it's impossible that no one saw him," Stone said, his frustration evident in his voice.

"We believe the Unsub must not have stood out," Hotch explained. "He's probably a very average-looking individual, and he's using this to his advantage. That, or he's a regular, and his presence at the club that night wouldn't have drawn attention."

"We have our technical analyst running checks on the membership list, so hopefully we'll have a better list of suspects soon," Rossi offered.

"You were able to get the club's membership list?" Stone asked, sounding impressed.

"We have a very skilled analyst," Hotch said, lip turned up slightly in a smile, voice laced with pride.

Stone whistled his appreciation. But then he frowned again.

"I heard from one of my boys that one of the people I interviewed at the club suddenly changed his story?" Stone asked as he looked at the agents.

Derek cringed a bit. They hadn't yet discussed how they wanted to disclose to the police that the club had purposefully tried to obstruct the investigation.

"There's a lot involved there, and at this point in time, I don't think it's prudent to try to pursue anything against those who may have initially withheld information," Hotch said, taking ownership for the decision. "Spencer Reid is a vital witness to our case. It's understandable that he was hesitant to come forward at first, especially seeing as he had witnessed a brutal murder."

"This Spencer Reid kid… the one we have the protective detail on? He  _lied_  to the police. There's not much ambiguity there. How do we know he's not involved in this?" Stone asked, his rising hostility apparent.

"He's not involved," Derek said firmly. "If you see this kid, he's terrified. The Unsub has set his sights on him. And we don't know why. The only thing we know is that he's obsessed."

"That still doesn't have  _me_  convinced," Stone said as he locked eyes with Derek. "This Reid character's a stripper in a seedy nightclub. The guy making contact could be some spurned lover of his. You know, an occupational hazard for some in that line of work. And I read the transcripts of his interview. All that promising to be a 'good boy' for him, shit? That phone conversation sounds personal to me. How much digging have you people really done into Reid's background? He could be in on this for all we know."

"He has a spotless record. Probably cleaner than any of us in this room. And if you had read the transcripts properly, you'd have also seen that this guy told Spencer he killed Victor LaRoux  _for_  him. He already identified himself as the Unsub, not some past lover, and there's no reason to think he has a partner," Derek said, testily. "This man's become fixated on Spencer. And he's dangerous. Spencer didn't do  _anything_  to encourage his attention."

"Oh, it's just  _Spencer_ , now, eh?" Stone asked with a raised eyebrow and a laugh.

Derek's face darkened at the man's tone.

"Look, we're doing our due diligence to investigate all leads in this case," Rossi said, before Derek could respond. "We appreciate all the insight and help LVPD has given us, but we also have to work with, and incorporate, the information gained from the killings in the other states. You know, the kills that make this a  _federal_  case. Nothing that we've seen so far connects Spencer with the earlier kills. So, for right now, we can't go jumping to any quick conclusions."

Stone shot a glare in Rossi's direction, apparently not pleased at the man's attempt to pull rank.

The ringing of a phone cut through the thick silence in the room.

Hotch leaned back and checked his phone.

"It's Garcia," he announced, as he looked around the room. "Detective Stone, our technical analyst may have some updates on the case. I'd like you to listen in. We'd appreciate any input you could offer."

Hotch ignored the obvious eye-roll that came from Derek, and engaged the call.

"Hi there, boss-man," Garcia said cheerfully.

"Did you make any headway on the member list?" Hotch asked.

"Still crunching through it, sir. But I wanted to bring to your attention something strange I just found in VICAP," Garcia said.

"What is it?" Hotch asked.

"Ok, so I was searching through to see if there were any past cases that were similar to our killer's M.O., right? And I came across this case that kind of seems like it could be our guy, but it's missing some of the signature," Garcia told them.

"What is it, baby girl?" Derek asked as he sat up straighter, attention piqued.

"So, there was this murder about four years ago. The guy was named Demetri Santos. He ran some adult-film company. Apparently he was murdered after-hours at his office. The cops saw it as burglary gone wrong. The M.E. report that I found shows that there were signs of choking. But it wasn't manual strangulation, like our guy has been using. The report says Santos was likely strangled with a belt or something like that. But what really got my attention was that the body was found with a 10" serrated blade protruding from his forehead… And that's  _definitely_  the same type of knife our guy likes to use," Garcia said.

"I remember that case… Demetri Santos was a scumbag porn-distributor, who was later discovered to be peddling in kiddy-porn on the side. His death was not one to be mourned," Stone said, a hard edge to his voice.

Hotch frowned.

"Were there any open cases or pending charges against him at the time he died?" he asked the man.

"Well… yeah, actually…sort of. A few kids came forward and made accusations against him. I think there were four of them, ranging from 14-16. They claimed they had been assaulted and coerced into performing in photo shoots and movies for the company. But when we investigated they either were unable to substantiate their claims or they recanted. We figured they were being paid off. And when we executed a warrant on Santos' office we couldn't find anything linking him to them. So we couldn't pursue it. Then, a few months later, he turned up dead," Stone explained, with a shrug.

"Paying people off to cover his crimes, hmm?" Rossi said. "That sounds like the type of thing that ticks off our Unsub."

"So, what about the fact that it doesn't fit the signature?" Stone asked.

"Well, this could have been an unplanned kill," Derek offered. "It's possible he didn't have his usual supplies and had to improvise."

"Yes, it seems too coincidental not to at least investigate it," Hotch said.

"Garcia, you mentioned that the police thought it was a burglary. Was anything taken?" Hotch asked, directing his comment to the waiting analyst.

"The cops think he took the security footage of the main door. The recorder was empty and the employees said that was abnormal. Other than that, nothing much seems to have been taken. He had some pretty valuable things in his office, including the jewelry he was wearing, and there was even an open laptop on his desk. But the killer left everything." Garcia informed them.

"We… had a hunch about what was on that computer," Stone spoke up.

The three agents turned to him.

"When they investigated the murder, they tore the place apart and came across a hidden back room with a number of DVDs locked in a safe. They seem to have been tapes of some type of…'audition.' They found about two dozen videos of different individuals performing sexual favors for Santos in his office. Apparently he was recording these people without their knowledge. 11 of the videos we found looked to have been of minors. All the videos were numbered, but one was missing—number 20. We never found it, no matter how much we looked. We… thought maybe Santos was watching this video when he was killed and the killer took it with him when he left." Stone explained.

Hotch raised an eyebrow.

"So… it begs the question, who was on that tape?" Hotch asked.

"We don't know. We weren't able to get much out of the employees. Of course everyone denied knowledge of Santos' dealings. No one wanted to be connected with  _that_. And we were only able to track down a handful of the people on the tapes. Santos didn't exactly keep records. In any case, we're sure these videos aren't an exhaustive list of the people he's harmed," Stone explained.

Hotch sighed and shook his head. These were the times he felt torn about his job. He was here to hunt a serial killer, but his mind was currently absorbed with the fact that some cretin had been taking advantage of vulnerable individuals and they had never gotten justice. But he couldn't let his mind linger. There wasn't enough time in the world to save everyone.

"Is his company still in business?" Hotch asked, with a frown.

"Actually, yes. But under new management. I'm not sure who's running it now. But I think it may be one of the former employees," Stone responded.

"Garcia, get us that information," Hotch said briskly.

"And Morgan?" Hotch said as he turned to his subordinate. "I want you to get down there and interview the new owner. If they were a prior employee, they might be able to tell us something helpful."

"I just sent it to your mobile, hot chocolate," Garcia informed him.

"Thanks," Derek said as he got to his feet.

"Keep me posted."

* * *

Emily and J.J. had spent the better part of the morning going through the large boxes of case files and bouncing ideas off of each other, while Spencer busied himself with cleaning his apartment. Spencer had seemed set on making sure they were comfortable, but the two women had told him to pretend like they weren't there and to go about his business as usual. So while they were not actively engaging each other, the atmosphere in the room was comfortable and friendly. Spencer found that he actually liked having them there, and listening absent-mindedly to the soft, lilting tones of their voices.

They had come across a bit of a disagreement, however, when Spencer announced he needed to go down to the basement to do his laundry. Both agents had volunteered to accompany him, but seeing that they were knee-deep in case files Spencer had protested. Once he was able to convince them that the laundry was only one floor down and there was no way anyone could access the room from outside the building, they had reluctantly agreed to let him go, but had told him that if they didn't see him back in the apartment in under five minutes they would be forced to come looking for him.

The sound of the door creaking open caused both agents to look up as Spencer entered the apartment. Emily glanced down at her watch and noted with approval that he had only been gone for four minutes and twenty seconds. The two women looked on, amused, as the boy in question dragged what appeared to be his third load of laundry across the small apartment on his way toward his bedroom. Apparently he had been neglecting that duty for a while.

"Is that the last load?" Emily asked, a teasing lilt to her words.

Spencer stopped and blushed once he realized he had attracted their attention.

"Yeah…" he said. "I-I'm not a slob, or anything. I've just been really busy, plus the machines here are expensive, so I kind of put it off for a while."

"No problem, Spencer. You don't have to explain anything to us. Really, we're just hoping we're not getting in your way," J.J. said

"N-no," Spencer said, looking down at his hands with a small smile. "I don't really have people over all that often… so, it's actually kind of nice having you guys here."

J.J. and Emily looked at him with surprise but both returned his smile, genuinely.

"So, do you have any other errands to run? Anything we can help with?" Emily asked as she laid down the file she had been holding and stretched languidly.

"Ah… I should probably get some groceries? But I can just run out real quick… probably be back in about an hour?" Spencer said.

Emily laughed.

"Spencer, come on. You're not leaving here without us," she said.

"Yeah, we're a 'protective detail.' We're going to go with you everywhere. Even getting groceries," J.J. said with a smile.

"Um… but I don't want to be a bother. And you know, I take the bus so…" Spencer mumbled.

Emily couldn't help but laugh again.

"Well, it's lucky for you that we have a nice and roomy government-issue SUV. So it won't be a bother for us to take you. You'd actually be doing  _us_  a favor by letting us drive, because it'd make our job a lot harder if we had to try to guard you while riding on a bus full of people," Emily explained.

Spencer laughed lightly.

"Yeah… I guess that makes sense… if you already have the car and all," he agreed.

"Ok," Emily said as she got to her feet and glanced down at her watch. "It's only about 11:00. We should be able to do a quick supplies run and be back in time to get some lunch. Sound good?"

J.J. nodded as she also got up and worked the kinks out of her body. She wasn't going to object to a reason to take a break from the thick stack of files they had waiting for them.

Spencer watched on in fascination as both agents, almost simultaneously, reached for their individual weapons and checked them, chocking them and moving a round into the chamber. He wondered when it had happened that his life was now one in which firearms were required for a run to the grocery store. He knew that over the past few days he had been trying to avoid facing the reality that his life had drastically changed in the course of a few moments. But now that he watched the two women, who had only moments before been playful and carefree, fluidly morph into all-business, and obviously very capable, federal agents, he saw how serious his situation was. Until this man was caught, he could never be left alone. He would constantly have to be watching over his shoulder. Constantly living in fear…

"Hey, Spence," J.J. asked as she pulled a jacket on, effectively concealing the holstered weapon at her side. "You ok?"

"Huh?" he asked, turning his wide eyes on to her. The unexpected nickname had drawn him out of his thoughts. And, blinking, he realized that J.J. had asked him a question.

"Y-yeah… I'm fine," he mumbled quietly.

Emily and J.J. looked at him for a moment but decided not to comment.

"Ok, so are you ready to go?" Emily asked.

"Sure, let me just grab my shoes," Spencer said as he wrangled the neglected bag of laundry and rushed towards his bedroom. He returned a few minutes later, sporting his Converses.

"You really love those things, huh?" Emily asked with a smile as she looked down at the beat up sneakers.

Spencer laughed and looked down at his feet fondly.

"Yeah," he said. "I don't buy too many things for myself. But, I like these. And I actually have a couple pairs in different colors, but… you just can't beat tried and true, you know?"

J.J. laughed and couldn't contain the urge to reach over and ruffle his hair.

"Come on, let's go," she said as she reached over and pulled the door open, escorting the motley bunch out the door.

* * *

Derek grimaced as he stepped into the shabby interior of Xquisite Incorporated, and whipped off his sunglasses. Garcia had given him a rundown on the type of business that took place here, but he hadn't been prepared for how sleazy the vibe would be. Glancing around, he saw numerous posters promoting various types of adult films adorning the walls. Apparently Xquisite Inc. catered to all kinds of tastes.

As Derek walked further down the hall, he began to feel impatient. Garcia had told him the individual he was going to be interviewing would be waiting for him, but from what Derek could see there was no one here. Shoving his hand into his pocket, intending to find his cellphone and reach out to Garcia, Derek's attention was drawn by the sound of a door creaking open at the end of the long corridor.

He looked up and saw a tall man in his mid-30's start to make his way down the hall.

"You the guy with the FBI?" the man asked skeptically.

"Yes, that's me," Derek said as he pulled out his credentials.

"Ok. Someone called me and told me you'd be on your way over, but you looked a little lost so I figured I'd come out here and meet you," the man explained.

"Oh, how'd you know I was out here?" Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

"Cameras," the man said as he pointed to a corner above Derek's head at the opposite end of the hallway.

Derek turned around and squinted up at the inconspicuous corner. He knew that if he hadn't been directed to its location he would never have seen it. It wasn't a common-place dome camera, the type usually used when one wanted the camera's presence to be known and act as a crime deterrent. This seemed to be a concealed camera, used to observe visitors covertly.

Frowning Derek turned back to the man.

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan," he said as he held his hand out to the man. "And you are?"

"Danny Wallace, CEO of Xquisite Inc. I hear you want to talk about Demetri Santos?" the man asked, furrowing his brow, but shaking the agent's hand.

"Yes, we have some questions related to his case." Derek explained.

"I… don't really know what I can tell you. That happened almost four years ago. I'm sure I told the cops everything I knew back then," Danny said.

"Well, the FBI tends to have different questions from the local police. Although it was a long time ago, it might help us in a current investigation. Do you think we could just talk for a few minutes, in private?" Derek asked as he glanced around the corridor, looking to see if there were any more cameras.

"Oh, sure, no problem. Come into my office," Danny said as he turned and led Derek back to the door he had originally exited from.

Derek followed behind the man and walked into a large office. Looking around, he saw that the office was probably the nicest part of the building. It was tastefully decorated in a contemporary style that seemed to fit well with the man's image. This Danny Wallace didn't give off an obviously sleazy vibe, as Derek would have expected. Instead, he seemed like an average, casual businessman, dressed in relaxed-fit gray slacks and a dark-blue button down. His skin was lightly tanned and he had dark hair, cut short. He seemed pleasant enough, but Derek noticed that the man's smile never met his dark eyes. He seemed more like a shark. Predatory and opportunistic.

Sitting down in the plush armchair the man gestured to, Derek flipped out his notepad.

"You were working here when Mr. Santos was killed?" he asked.

"Yes, I was one of his employees at that time," Danny responded as he took a seat behind his desk.

"I see. And in what capacity did you work for him?" Derek asked.

Danny drew in an exaggerated breath and sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"I was a scout… I'd walk up and down the Strip seeing if there was any viable talent out there and I'd bring them back to see if they were up to Demetri's standards," Danny said, eyes never leaving the ceiling.

Derek flinched. Something about this scenario niggled at his subconscious. He didn't have a good feeling about Danny Wallace, but he couldn't quite place his discomfort.

"Any of that 'talent' include minors?" Derek asked plainly.

Danny leaned forward and trained his eyes on Derek. He smiled sympathetically.

"Agent, I might not have all the schooling you do, but please don't take me for a fool. You're not going to get me to sit here and incriminate myself. I never engaged in any criminal or illegal activity and had no knowledge of what Demetri was doing in his free time. He was running a legitimate business, for all I knew." he said.

Derek raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

"I'm sure you paid a very skilled lawyer to tell you to say all that," he replied.

Danny frowned, smile disappearing.

"Agent, I thought you wanted my help?" he asked, staring at the man in front of him challengingly.

"You're right, my apologies," Derek said as he leaned back, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Tell me what you knew about Demetri."

Danny sighed and shook his head.

"Well, I can't deny it. I know what the cops found. Apparently, Demetri had certain… 'tastes.' It wasn't anything I was in to, and once I found out about it, I made sure that we no longer produced any of those videos," Danny said, a contrite expression on his face.

Derek frowned, unimpressed with the man's words. It wasn't like he had a  _choice_  to stop distributing content that basically amounted to child pornography. Once the place was on the cops' radar after Santos' death, an injunction had been instituted against the company. In all honesty, Derek was shocked the company had actually managed to survive after the investigation of Santos. Wallace must have been a very savvy businessman to have been able to keep the production company afloat once he got his hands on it.

"The cops said Santos kept a secret stash of videos. Auditions, they called them. You know anything about  _that_?" Derek asked, training his dark eyes on Danny's.

Danny's lips turned down into a frown.

"Look… I knew he had cameras in his office. And his office was usually where he had the new talent 'try out' for him. It just follows that the auditions would be caught on tape. I just didn't think he was saving them… I guess that was his downfall," Danny said with a shrug.

Derek felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

_No_ , Derek found himself wanting to say.  _His 'downfall' was that he was sexually assaulting underage kids._

Instead, Derek asked, "Do you think it's possible he was sharing those videos with anyone else?"

Danny paused, as if he were really mulling the question over.

"Honestly… it's possible. He never showed them to me, and I never asked. I just didn't find the idea of watching some desperate person fucking an old man all that appealing. Plus, he was pretty indifferent on gender, so I'm sure I probably wouldn't have liked everything I saw. But, I know he had business meetings after hours here. I could see him being the type to show off to his friends, if he had something like that on tape," he admitted, noncommittally.

"Did he have any 'business meetings' scheduled for the night he died?" Derek asked.

"No. The cops asked the same thing. He had nothing on his schedule for that night. And the cops said he was killed between two and three a.m. That was late to be here, even in Demetri's case. I can't think of any reasons he'd have been here at that time," Danny replied.

"Look, I'm going to ask you a question, and tell you that any answer you give me won't incriminate you in any future prosecution," Derek said seriously.

Danny looked at him, unimpressed.

"Well, you can ask away, Agent. There's no guarantee I'm going to answer," he responded.

Derek narrowed his eyes, but then forced himself to relax.

"When they searched Demetri's secret stash of videos, they found the videos were labeled from 1-22. But one was missing. It was number 20. They think whoever killed Santos took that video. Do you know who or what was on that video?" he asked.

Danny leaned back and folded his arms behind his head.

"I told you I never saw the videos, Agent," he said simply

"At this point, I don't care if you turned a blind eye to what Santos was doing. We're not going to come after you now. We think the man who killed Santos four years ago is the same man who killed another person in your city, just last week. He's a  _serial_  killer. The more you do nothing, the more likely it is that you could be his next victim," Derek said, sending the man a hard glare.

Danny looked at him carefully, as if he was trying to see if the agent was telling the truth.

He then sighed.

"Off the record," he said as he leaned forward and gave the agent a meaningful look.

Derek nodded silently.

"I never watched the videos," Danny said as he averted his eyes. "But… I was in charge of burning them to discs and labeling them. I can't remember every single one but I know that for the latter part of that year Demetri seemed to only want boys… young ones. I never knew their ages or anything. I purposefully didn't ask. As long as they looked like they were at least in high school—you know, so that we could deny we knew their real ages—I was supposed to bring them in. I never asked them their names, where they were from, what they did… I didn't want to know. And there's no way I can remember who number '20' was, after all this time, but I  _can_  tell you that the person on that video is going to be some young boy. That's the best I can do for you."

Derek felt himself grinding his teeth, but he couldn't say anything to the man in front of him. Telling him how he thought he was despicable scum wasn't going to aid in getting the man to divulge any more information. And what he needed right now was information. As much as he could get.

"Was Santos a member of  _Mon Petit Chien_? It's a club on-" Derek began before Danny cut him off.

"He was an  _investor_  in that club," he said with wide eyes. "He got me a membership."

Derek blinked in surprise.  _That_  was unexpected.

"Do you know anything about his business dealings there?" Derek asked.

Danny shook his head in the negative.

"The club opened up a couple years back. Maybe five or six years ago? I was just a talent scout. Demetri wouldn't talk to me about the intricate details of his investments. But, he liked me and wanted to expose me to the types of people who were a part of it. The club was pretty exclusive so him getting me the membership was kind of like him vouching for me," Danny explained.

"So… people use the membership in these clubs as social collateral?" Derek asked, his confusion apparent.

"Yeah, you'd be surprised who's on the membership list," Danny said with a slight smile. "I don't hang out at the actual establishments. I see enough naked bodies in my every day work life. Doesn't really make sense for me to go to a strip club and pay for it. But, I do go to the events. It's good for networking," Danny said.

"Events?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, a few times a month a member hosts a theme party at their house. They hire some of the dancers from the clubs to act as wait-staff. Basically, it's a night of debauchery, and, honestly, anything goes. But, you can meet some really important people at the same time." Danny said with a shrug.

Derek's eyes narrowed.  _Was this the 'sex party' Spencer was talking about_? He thought to himself.

"How do people get invited to these things?" he asked.

Danny looked at him curiously.

"Well, it's more like word of mouth. The person who's hosting usually invites their circle of friends, and then they'll tell someone else, etc., etc. The investors and managers always know whenever a party's happening though. They usually attend most of them."

"When's the next party?" Derek asked.

Danny blinked in surprise.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but you're  _not_  getting into one of these parties, Agent. I mean, you might be the FBI, and all, but I'm talking really important people here. If they don't know you, you're not getting in. You'd need a warrant, and  _good_  luck getting a judge here to sign off on that," Danny said with a laugh.

"When's the next party?" Derek demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Danny blanched at the agent's stern tone.

"There's one this Friday actually… it's the "Prince's Ball," he said, all humor leaving his voice.

"Where?" Derek barked.

Danny leaned back, as if intimidated.

"I-I don't know. Seriously. I didn't plan on going to this one. The Prince's Ball would've been more  _Demetri's_  cup of tea, if you get my drift. The entertainment's strictly gonna be a bunch of young, half-naked guys."

Derek sighed in frustration as he got to his feet. He didn't have any more time to waste on this evasive and apparently  _useless_ , bottom-feeder. He could probably get better results with Garcia. Shoving his hand into his pocket and retrieving his card-holder he quickly yanked out one of his business cards.

"If you remember anything else, make sure you give me a call." He said as he tossed the card on to the man's desk. "And I hope I don't have to tell you not to go anywhere. I'm sure we'll have some follow up questions for you."

Danny nodded, dumbfounded, and watched as the tall agent strode from the room.

* * *

As Spencer, J.J and Emily strolled through the aisles of the grocery story, Spencer was shocked by how quickly the two female agents had commandeered control of his shopping choices. His shopping habits leaned towards quick, easy, and non-perishable. He also had one hell of a sweet tooth. But the two agents had fussed over him like mother hens, complaining about the certain deterioration of his health if he continued to eat the way he did. They had forced him to get more vegetables (even if they were frozen), whole grains, and other nutritious items. They also seriously reduced his stash of sweet treats. The one place he found himself putting up any amount of a fight was with the coffee, so J.J. and Emily had quickly backed off. And even though he wasn't used to all the meddling, he found himself somewhat enjoying their company. It kind of reminded him of when he was younger and would go shopping with his mother.

Although the trip to the store was comfortable, and almost even fun, Spencer was aware of J.J. and Emily's divided attention. The agents supported each other smoothly, and even though to outsiders it would never look like the two women were law enforcement officers canvassing a supermarket, Spencer could see the ways in which they were communicating with each other. Every time they entered an aisle, either J.J. or Emily would go first. The other one was always right behind Spencer, with her back to her partner and her front facing the opening of the aisle. He was surprised that they could do this without even announcing their intentions.

The two agents had acted similarly when they left the apartment and filed into the large SUV. They had flanked Spencer on both sides and he watched on as their discerning eyes quickly took in all the activity on the streets around them. They had even incorporated their training into how they required Spencer to sit in the car. J.J. climbed into the driver's seat while Emily climbed into the back with him. When Spencer asked why she wasn't riding in the passenger seat, Emily had shrugged and explained that if, for some reason, the front of the car was incapacitated someone would always be in the back to protect him. She had smiled and placed an arm on his shoulder, saying, "We're prepared to do anything to protect you, kid." He had been silent, overcome with the idea that these women could so easily offer to lay down their lives for him. In just the small amount of time he had spent with them, Spencer quickly grew even more of an appreciation for the work that they did.

When they had finished checking out, and were on their way back to the car, the agents made Spencer sit in the car as they packed the trunk. He had really whined about that, thinking it was unfair to make them lug all his groceries, but J.J. had smiled at him from behind her sunglasses and said, "Spencer, trust us. It's easier for us to keep an eye on you back there than it is for us to spend our time trying to make sure someone's not going to take a shot at you." He had blanched at that idea, and J.J. had quickly tried to backpedal.

"Well… this guy's not the shooting type. But, this is just protocol. Ok? We don't mind. You don't have that much stuff," she said with a smile, hoping she had soothed the boy.

"See, all done," Emily said as she wiped her hands and stepped back from the trunk.

Both agents closed the trunk and had soon piled back into the car, with Emily sitting next to him like before.

"See, that wasn't too bad, huh?" Emily asked as she leaned towards the boy and they listened to the sound of the car starting up.

"And we're off," J.J. announced as she pulled out of the lot, heading back to Spencer's apartment.

* * *

The three piled into the apartment about a half an hour later, and Spencer let out a sigh of relief. He was thankful to be back in the familiar safety of his apartment. Although the agents had done a great job at making him feel safe while they were out earlier, he couldn't help but feel tense. He also didn't like the idea that  _they_ had been in danger on account of him. That was a lot harder for him to bear. As he placed the groceries on the counter, he watched as the agents made their way into the living room placing down their lunches on the coffee table.

"Hey, when you're done in there come and join us," Emily called out to him.

On the way back to his apartment, the agents had stopped for sandwiches and (again) forced Spencer into accepting food from them. He wasn't used to being spoiled like this and he wondered, for a brief second, whether he would miss all the attention once the case was over and all the agents were gone.

He made quick work of the groceries, packing his cupboards and fridge and was surprised at how full they looked. He hadn't put this much effort into stocking his supplies in a while and it made it clear to him that he probably really wasn't taking very good care of himself. He had been reminded of that more times than he wanted to count over the last few days. By his mother, J.J. and Emily, and, of course, Derek Morgan. The women he was used to. It seemed to be in their very nature to worry about weak animals, and he was sure that, to them, he looked like some injured bird that needed saving. But why was  _Derek_  concerned, Spencer wondered to himself.

He believed the agent had been sincere in the things he had said last night. Thinking back on it, Spencer wasn't even sure he knew  _why_  he had been so open with Derek in the first place.  _Was I just starved for affection_ , he asked himself. But even though he couldn't quite pinpoint the reason why he had shared with the agent something that he had never told another living soul, he didn't regret that he had done it. He was sure it was because Derek hadn't reacted negatively. Sure, Derek had been angry when he found out that those things had happened to him and Spencer hadn't done anything about it. But he hadn't seemed mad at  _Spencer_ , or like he thought it was in any way his fault. Instead, Derek had only seemed mad at the men that had done those things to him.

And then Derek had  _hugged_  him… Spencer hadn't been hugged by anyone, other than his mother, in the longest time. And Spencer would've thought himself someone who wouldn't have looked forward to the idea of a hug from an almost complete stranger. But, to Spencer's surprise, the hug had definitely been… nice. It felt good to be enveloped by a warm, protective body. And Derek had felt safe, he smelled good, and it seemed like all he had wanted to do was make Spencer feel better. There was no ulterior motive. Derek was selfless. But Spencer had pushed away… afraid about getting  _too_  used to feeling something like that. He knew it was an experience that wouldn't be happening to him often.

Shaking his head, he walked out of the kitchen and joined the agents sitting on his couch. As the three of them dug into their sandwiches and began chatting quietly, Emily soon became aware of the fact that Spencer's voice had all but dropped out of the conversation. Glancing over at him, she watched the boy as he sat with his sandwich in his hands, chewing slowly and staring off into the distance, as if he were lost in thought.

"Spencer… what's wrong with you? Why're you so quiet," Emily said, as an off-hand comment.

The boy in question looked up from his sandwich with wide eyes.

Emily blinked in surprise, as if she hadn't even intended to voice that thought out loud.

"I-I mean… not that you're… you know, you don't really talk a lot in  _general_. But, today you were more talkative than usual. Suddenly, you got really quiet. Is everything ok?" she asked.

"Oh…" Spencer said as he placed his sandwich back down on to its wrapper and glanced away. "Um… I guess I've got some stuff on my mind."

J.J. frowned, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Is it about the case…?" she asked carefully.

Spencer blinked curiously as he looked up at her.

"Actually… no… I haven't been thinking about the case much today, as strange as that sounds," he admitted reluctantly.

J.J. and Emily exchanged glances. They weren't sure what exactly could distract someone from a murder investigation involving a serial killer, especially when that killer in question seemed to have taken a particular interest in you.

"So… what's been on your mind, then?" J.J. asked.

"Ugh," Spencer said as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I… I don't know. I've just been thinking a lot about a person lately. And it's  _really_  been bugging me. I find I can't keep my train of thought and I don't know why. It's extremely distracting…"

Emily and J.J. looked at each other with wide-eyes, both of their mouths slightly parted in surprise. Spencer seemed so frustrated with his thoughts that he wasn't even really aware of their presence or reactions. But both the agents had the same thought crossing their minds. It sounded like Spencer was… infatuated.

"You… can't stop thinking about a person…?" Emily asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah," Spencer said flatly, as he looked up at Emily, the confused frown still on his face.

"Spencer," J.J. said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. "Are these like… 'pleasant' thoughts, or are you saying you keep thinking about this person because you're mad at them, or they did something to you that bothers you?"

Spencer pursed his lips and furrowed his brows as he mulled over her question.

"No… I'm not mad at them, and they didn't do anything to me. And… I guess thinking about him is… pleasant? I don't know. I wouldn't really categorize my feelings as leaning any particular way. But I just keep thinking about him… even when I don't intend to do it on purpose." The boy said, eyebrows furrowing again, like he was trying to figure out some complicated equation.

"Spencer!" J.J. said as she whacked his arm, this time unable to contain her excitement. "That sounds like you  _like_  this person!"

Spencer looked at her, aghast, eyes as wide as saucers.

" _What?_ " he asked, as if the mere thought of it was inconceivable.

"You don't know how to tell if you like someone?" Emily asked, eyes wide in shock, but excitement also filling her voice.

"No… I mean… I don't  _like_  him. I don't 'like'  _anyone_ … this is just absurd," he said, shaking his head at them in disbelief.

"Spencer!" J.J. said again, her voice becoming almost painfully high, in Spencer's opinion. "Haven't you ever liked someone before? You know, like a crush? If you're thinking about someone all the time, to the point where it's distracting you from everything else, chances are you have a crush!"

As understanding dawned on Spencer, his face blossomed into a deep shade of red. He couldn't believe it. Could it possibly be true? Had he somehow suddenly become enamored with Derek Morgan? It didn't make sense. Derek was objectively attractive, but that didn't mean Spencer was attracted  _to_  him, right? He just thought about him a lot because he was nice. And if anything, it was  _Derek's_  fault that he was currently in Spencer's mind. The agent wouldn't leave him alone!

J.J. watched the boy's emotions play over his face with both mirth and incredulity. She couldn't believe Spencer had never had a crush before. He was 19-years-old and, well, he worked as a stripper. On the other hand, Spencer was… different, to say the least. He had been a child prodigy and his life had been nothing but academics up until the age of 15. The fact that he had resorted to this type of job was the only uncharacteristic element. She actually didn't find it so hard to believe that he had jumped from sheltered genius to stripper without taking any of the steps of maturity or life experiences in between.

"Who is it?" Emily asked, unable to control herself.

"What?" Spencer asked, feeling his face get even hotter, if that was possible. "There's  _no_ way I'm talking to you two about this!"

The two agents placed their hands up in surrender, chuckling slightly, but seeming willing to give the boy a break.

"Ok, ok," Emily said looking pointedly at him. "If you don't want to talk, that's  _fine_. But we can't do anything about the fact that your head is filled with…whoever-he-is if you won't talk to us."

Spencer cast a weak glare in her direction and turned back to his sandwich.

Trying to contain their smiles, Emily and J.J. resumed eating as well. As the silence stretched out, the tension coming off the boy became more and more palpable. It was obvious the gears in Spencer's brain were turning at a mile a minute, even though the boy refused to voice his thoughts. Finally, after a few minutes had passed, Spencer tossed his half-eaten sandwich back on the table.

"So…  _if_ —and I'm just saying this hypothetically—if… I, you know, 'liked' someone… what should I do?" he asked, hesitantly, face flushed in a light pink.

J.J.'s eyebrows went up in surprise. She suddenly felt like they were faced with an unprecedented situation. Sure, she and Emily had been good-naturedly teasing Spencer a few minutes earlier. It probably was because Spencer seemed so serious all the time, and hearing him talk about having a crush had been both surprising and entertaining. But… as federal agents on duty, should they really be spending their time giving an obviously confused boy dating advice? A boy who also just happened to be a witness in their murder investigation and the current stalking victim of said killer. It just seemed a bit…unprofessional.

J.J. glanced at her colleague and Emily could only shrug. She didn't seem to know what the right answer was either. Sighing slightly J.J turned to face Spencer.

"You've never dated anyone before?" she asked carefully, as she caught the boy's light brown eyes with her piercing blue ones.

"No," Spencer said matter-of-factly, no hint of embarrassment in his voice. "It just never appealed to me. And it's not like I'd date any of the people I work with…or my clients."

Emily and J.J. nodded their understanding. It made sense. Spencer spent almost the entire week at the club, where he was likely over-immersed in an artificial world of 'attraction.' It wasn't surprising that he'd want to avoid anything associated with that in his personal life. It made the agents curious, however. If Spencer said he wasn't attracted to his colleagues or clients, who exactly did he meet that drew his attention? And  _when_?

"Hmm… well… the first thing I'd say for you to do if you like someone is  _flirt_ , kid," Emily said, deeming that there was no harm in giving Spencer some advice.

"Flirt…" Spencer said, as if mulling the term over in his head.

He had been  _taught_  to flirt. Or, more correctly, he had been taught to be seductive, enticing, and sultry. He wasn't exactly sure that would play out well with Agent Morgan.

"You know, you got to put feelers out to see if he's into you too," J.J. explained.

"So, how do I put 'feelers' out?" Spencer asked, still seeming to have a hard time processing the information.

"Uh…" J.J. said as she glanced at Emily, seeming to be seeking her intervention.

The brunette made a face, but turned to Spencer.

"Well, you can try to get close to him, make it obvious that you like the things he's saying or doing… laugh when he says something funny and make sure to smile at him." Emily explained.

Spencer nodded, face as serious as a student absorbing a vital part of his curriculum.

"And, I guess, if all else fails, touching is always a surefire way to get the point across," she said as she winked at him. "You can find lots of reasons to accidentally brush up against someone."

"Oh…" Spencer said as he blinked in surprise. He then stared down at his hands, thinking carefully.

Emily and J.J. weren't sure if Spencer was put off by their advice, or if he was simply having trouble making sense of it. Before they could inquire further, a phone began to ring. Spencer looked up, recognizing the tone to be his and thankful for a diversion, he scrambled to his feet and into the kitchen, where he remembered seeing his phone last. Both agents looked on as the boy hurried away from them.

When Spencer closed his hand around his phone he frowned to see that it was an unknown number. Feeling slightly apprehensive, he walked back into the living room with the phone still ringing in his hands. J.J. and Emily looked up at him in confusion but when they saw the paleness of his face they both became concerned.

"What's wrong?" J.J. asked.

"I… I don't recognize this number," Spencer said hesitantly, as the phone continued to ring. "Do you think it could be…?"

Realizing what Spencer was suggesting, both agents kicked into action.

"Ok, you're going to have to answer it Spencer, but make sure to put it on speaker. If it's the Unsub, we're going to try to trace it but to do that you're going to have to stay on the phone as long as you can, ok?" Emily said.

In the meantime, J.J was already dialing into Garcia's line.

Spencer nodded numbly and pressed the answer button after the sixth ring.

"Spencer," a chilling voice purred.

Spencer immediately recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had called him two nights ago and he felt his throat close up in fear. Turning to Emily with wide eyes, Spencer nodded silently to her and Emily nudged J.J.. Understanding that they had their suspect on the phone, J.J. got to her feet and quickly walked into the backroom so she could speak to Garcia without interfering with the phone call.

" _Spencer_?" the man said again, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Spencer could see Emily signaling him to begin talking, and swallowing down his nervousness Spencer followed her instruction.

"U-um… hello?" he asked tentatively.

"Ah, there you are, Spencer! I've missed hearing your voice. How are you, my pet? Have you been good, as I asked?" the voice inquired.

Spencer felt his face flush slightly at the demeaning-nature of the man's words, but he knew he had to respond.

"Y-yes," he said softly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer saw J.J. return from the back room and she gave a thumbs-up to Emily, seemingly signaling that she had been able to get in touch with their technical analyst.

"I don't think that's true, Spencer," the man responded, a hard edge overtaking his tone. "And I don't like the idea of you lying to me."

Spencer blinked in surprise and the two agents frowned hearing the man's word.

"What do you mean? I haven't done anyth-" Spencer began but was sharply cut off.

"What was that  _man_  doing spending the night at your apartment then, Spencer!?" the man almost shouted.

Spencer jumped at the sharpness in his tone, and he looked at the two agents in desperation. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say in reference to the FBI's protective detail.

"Derek Morgan was his name, wasn't it?" the man asked, saving Spencer from having to answer him. Apparently he already  _knew_  the identity of the man in question. Both Emily and J.J. tensed at this admission. It complicated things if the Unsub knew enough about them that he had their names.

"How could you invite that man to spend the night with you, Spencer? Why do you have to be such a slut? I thought you were better than that!" the man spat.

Spencer blushed furiously, but he also felt himself getting angry.

"I-! It's nothing like that!" Spencer snapped. "He was here to protect me from  _you_!"

Emily shot to her feet, ready to rip the phone out of Spencer's hands. She wasn't sure if antagonizing this man was the best idea. But Spencer stepped back slightly.

"Protect you? You think that muscle-bound FBI thug can do anything for you? What's to stop me from coming in there and putting a bullet in his brain while he sleeps? You all think you're so clever, agents? Huh?" the man asked angrily.

Emily and J.J.'s eyes narrowed. They didn't take lightly to the man's threat against their colleague. And it seemed that the man had been addressing them personally. Like he knew they were there.

"I  _know_  you're there!" the man shouted, confirming their suspicions. "Answer me!"

J.J stood to her feet and placed a hand on Emily's shoulder as she stepped in front of her and took her place next to Spencer.

"We're here," J.J said calmly. "What can we do for you?"

"Spencer doesn't  _need_  you to protect him from me," the man growled out. "I'm the only one that can save him. I've been protecting him all along! We're  _destined_! Why don't you understand that?"

J.J. shook her head as she tried to make sense of the man's words.

"We know you want to protect Spencer, but the things you're doing are scaring him. I don't think that's what you really want, is it?" she asked.

The man laughed.

"Who am I speaking to? Is it Emily? Or is this Jennifer?" the man asked.

J.J. flinched.

"How do you know-" she began but the man cut her off again.

"Answer me!" he demanded.

"This is Agent Jareau," J.J. responded in a level tone.

"Ah, Jennifer," the man purred, ignoring her title. "Don't presume that you know what I  _want_. Spencer needs to know his place. If he doesn't yet appreciate that I'm what's best for him then he needs to be  _trained_  until he does! Stop. Interfering."

Spencer gripped the phone in his hand tightly, disgusted and terrified by the man's words.

"And, Spencer," the man said, voice taking on a sweet tone. "If I see another man staying over at your place, you're going to regret it. Am I understood?"

Spencer felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes, but he found himself nodding.

"U-understood," he breathed out.

And then the line went dead.

J.J. and Emily stared at the phone gripped in his hands in shock. This was not what they were expecting of the Unsub at all. His obsession was more deep-seated than they had originally realized. There was no telling what the Unsub would be willing to do if he didn't get his way.

Snapping out of her stupor, J.J. quickly pulled away from Emily and Spencer and re-dialed Garcia.

"Garcia!" she said quickly once the line had engaged. "Did we get anything?"

"Unfortunately no… I mean, the call was short. Definitely under two minutes, but I didn't even figure I'd need that much time. The guy was using a cellphone this time, but once I locked on to the signal it continued to bounce back and forth amongst numerous towers, as if something was scrambling it. It's impossible to triangulate that. The best I could give you is that he's within a 10-mile radius," Garcia explained, apologetically.

"What?" J.J. asked in shock. "That's impossible… I was sure he'd be somewhere in closer proximity. The way he talked, it was like he could see that we were here."

"That might be so. But if he has some kind of device to mess with the signals, we're out of luck," Garcia explained.

J.J could only sigh her frustration.

"Look, are you guys going to be alright over there? Should I tell Hotch to send additional backup?" Garcia asked, concern evident in her voice.

"No… We'll update Hotch ourselves. I think we'll be fine over here. At this point, this guy's all steam. He seems really worked up, but I don't think he'll make any attempts on Spencer right now. And, even if he does, Emily and I can handle it," J.J. reassured her.

"Ok, stay safe my doves," Garcia said, before she ended the call.

When J.J. turned back to Emily and Spencer, she could see Emily softly stroking Spencer's arm, as if trying to comfort him. The boy looked upset, but his face showed more anger than fear.

"Hey…" J.J. said as she approached them and caught Emily's eyes, as if to ask if everything was ok. Emily just frowned and shook her head.

"So, Garcia wasn't able to trace the call. Apparently this guy's using something to scramble his signal. So she has no idea where he was calling from. I'm guessing he was somewhere close, though. He knew we were here, so it's likely he's been watching us." J.J. informed them.

"This is ridiculous," Spencer finally said as he balled his hands into fists and looked up at the two agents. "Why would he say things like that? Who does he think he is? He doesn't know me! I don't owe him  _anything_! And I didn't  _ask_  for this!"

"We know that Spencer," Emily said soothingly. "He's obsessed. Sometimes the slightest, inconsequential thing to us, could be the world for someone who's infatuated with you. It could be something as small as smiling at someone in a coffee shop. It doesn't have to make sense to you or me, it just has to make sense to him."

"With that said, it might be best if you just stay in today, Spencer. He seems to be angry that we're here, and we don't want to run the risk of you having a run-in with him at the club," J.J. suggested.

Spencer stared at her in disbelief.

"No," he said, indignantly. "What? Am I expected to just sit cooped up here like a scared animal until you guys catch this maniac? You haven't been doing such a great job of that so far. And last I checked, I still have to eat. I don't have the luxury of just calling out of work."

The boy's tone caused the two agents to flinch. They didn't have much of a defense to his accusations, even though they knew they were doing their best to catch the Unsub. To someone who was living through this, nothing would seem like it was good enough.

"Spencer, we understand that this is a difficult situation for you, but you've got to think about what will keep you safest for the time being," J.J. tried to explain.

Spencer scoffed.

"Look, you have a job to do, and so do I. You're just going to have to figure out how to do it while I work. I can't afford to not get paid," Spencer said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Emily sighed in resignation.

"Then…we'll see what we can do," she offered.

"Fine," Spencer said, some of the edge leaving his voice.

He glanced up at the concerned looking agents, and suddenly felt ashamed of how he had snapped at them.

"Look… Is it ok if I just take some time to myself?" he asked them, as he gestured to the back room.

Emily nodded.

"Sure thing. Take all the time you want. We'll be right out here if you need us," she said with a small smile.

The two women watched silently as the younger male turned and walked down the hall. After hearing the door click quietly behind him, they turned to each other and let out heavy sighs.

"We've got to update the others on this situation. I don't think Hotch is going to like this," J.J. said as she whipped out her phone.

* * *

When Derek returned to the precinct, he was relieved to see that Detective Stone had taken his leave, but he was not expecting to see Hotch and Rossi huddled around the phone looking somber.

"What's going on?" he asked as he took a seat at the table.

"I just got off the phone with J.J," Hotch explained.

Derek sat up straighter. Hotch's statement immediately had his mind running through an endless list of unpleasant scenarios.

"Everything's fine, Morgan," Hotch placated, seeing Derek's panic. "But, they did get another call from the Unsub."

Derek narrowed his eyes.

"What did that bastard want this time?" he asked.

Rossi sighed, while shaking his head.

"Apparently he's been conducting some intel of his own. He knew J.J. and Emily's names… he knew yours as well. He seemed to have been particularly displeased that Spencer had you spend the night. He said some nasty things to the kid regarding that," Rossi said.

"What?" Derek asked, confusion apparent on his face.

"It seems the Unsub read something illicit into your presence there and took that as a betrayal by Spencer," Hotch explained.

"That doesn't make any sense!" Derek exclaimed. "There's nothing like that going on."

"Well,  _we_  know that kid. But this guy isn't exactly thinking straight. I'm sure it's just because you're a man and he seems to think he has some type of ownership over Spencer," Rossi offered.

Derek frowned at that.

"Another concerning issue is that the Unsub  _knew_  Derek spent the whole night over at the kid's," Rossi pointed out as he turned to face Hotch.

"True," Hotch said with a weary sigh. "So that means he's either sitting watch all night, or he has the place bugged."

Derek paled at the thought, his mind racing over all the case-related, not to mention personal, information that had been divulged in that apartment.

"I'll make sure to have someone go over there and sweep for bugs when Spencer leaves for work today," Hotch said. "And if they find nothing, I think we should do a stakeout. If the Unsub's sticking this close to Spencer we might have a good chance of intercepting him."

The other two men nodded their agreement.

"What'd the Unsub say to Spencer, exactly?" Derek asked, still feeling guilty that his presence had caused Spencer to be subjected to the man's ire.

Hotch watched Derek's face carefully before speaking, as if he was trying to determine whether he should mince his words or not.

"We're not too worried about Spencer, actually," Hotch responded after a moment. "It was the same possessive posturing as usual. We know he's just trying to scare Spencer into submission. What we're more concerned about is that the Unsub specifically threatened  _you_. J.J. said he alluded to wanting to put a bullet in your head."

"Fuck that, Hotch!" Derek said in anger. "It's not like I'm afraid of this guy."

Hotch rolled his eyes at Derek's outburst.

"We know that. But, we don't need your presence to be the factor that incites this guy to act," Hotch said seriously.

"So, what, are you going to just leave him to J.J. and Emily? What happens when he threatens to put a bullet in one of them?" Derek asked.

Hotch didn't take Derek's bait. He knew that Derek always wanted to play the role of the 'protector.' He was always going to be the one to volunteer to put himself on the line if it meant he could prevent it happening to one of his colleagues. It was a habit Hotch had talked to him about more times than he could count.

"We're just asking you to be careful, Derek," Hotch said simply. "I can't afford to pull you off of this anyway. It would be too much of a strain on the team to require Prentiss & J.J. to be his exclusive detail. I just need you to know that this guy views you as a threat and if he's likely to attack anyone, it'll probably be you."

Derek nodded quietly, mulling over Hotch's words. He understood what Hotch was saying. He also agreed that it would probably make sense to pull back if it seemed the Unsub was more threatened by a male staying with Spencer than the females. But, it was exactly  _because_  the Unsub had gotten angry with Spencer as a result of Derek having spent the night that he felt he wanted to stay by the kid. He didn't want Spencer thinking he was going to turn his back on him as soon as the going got tough. And in any case, Derek was more than willing to take the Unsub on if he ever decided to follow through on his threats against Spencer.

"Morgan, I don't want this distracting you from the big picture," Hotch said, drawing Derek from his thoughts. "What did you find out during your interview?"

Derek sighed his frustration, but flipped out his notebook.

"Ok, the guy I met with was named Danny Wallace. He was working at Xquisite back when Santos was murdered, but now he's the new owner. He's acting all wide-eyed and claiming innocence, but, believe me, this cat knew what was going on behind closed doors. I don't believe he was actually taking part in any of it, but he definitely knew Santos was auditioning minors and was turning a blind eye to it. So if you ask me, he's just as guilty as that sick creep." Derek said, frowning.

Hotch and Rossi nodded. They had expected as much.

"Ok, so was he able to give you anything helpful regarding the night of the murder?" Hotch asked.

"Not really," Derek admitted. "It was a long time ago, and there was no evidence of who came by that night. But, he did tell me that he can say with certainty that the missing DVD would have been of a boy. Apparently that was Santos' preference. Wallace says it could have been possible that Santos was showing a visitor the DVD. He wouldn't put that past him. But what I thought was the most interesting is that Santos was an  _investor_ at  _Mon Petit Chien_ ," Derek informed them.

"Investor?" Hotch asked.

"Yea, apparently he was one of the people who got the club on its feet a couple of years back," Derek responded.

"So he would've been more involved in the club than an average member," Rossi postulated.

"Yeah, and Wallace says Santos actually bought a membership for him. Not necessarily to use the club's services, but so he would have access to the private events. It was Santos' way of getting Wallace business contacts," Derek said.

"That's interesting," Hotch said to himself. "Our Unsub could very well be connected to the club on the business side, not necessarily on the pleasure side. And here we have mention of those private events yet again."

"Did this Wallace character say anything else?" Rossi asked.

Derek hesitated for a moment, and then sighed.

"Yeah… Wallace said that the investors and managers usually attend every party. And… they'll be having a party this Friday. It's called the Prince's Ball." Derek informed them.

Hotch and Rossi stared at him expectantly.

"Apparently this party caters to those who like their entertainment to be… young and male." Derek admitted reluctantly.

"Oh." Rossi said, simply.

Hotch just nodded.

The three men were silent for a while as they all absorbed the information.

"Look, I'm going to have Garcia see if she can find any information about these investors. I imagine that'll be a much shorter list than the general membership. If she can find anyone who has a connection to the victims, that'll be a good place to start," Hotch said.

He then looked at Derek.

"But, we're running out of time. I refuse to let this guy slip away again, and like I said before, we have an unprecedented opportunity with Spencer. If Garcia can't get us a list of names that's short enough to work with, our best option might be to have Spencer attend that party. Especially if the theme is one in which he fits the criteria. He won't stand out. If the Unsub is an investor and he knows Spencer's going to be there, that might be a way to draw him out into the open," Hotch said, eyes searching Derek's.

Derek fought hard to conceal his emotions and smother his desire to tell his boss how much he disagreed with his plan.

"That runs the risk of putting Spencer into a lot of danger, Hotch," Derek said somberly. "It just… it doesn't sit right with me."

"I understand your reservations. It's not my first choice plan, by far. But we would have no legitimate reason to be entering that party. The only person who could show up there and stay under the radar is Spencer." Hotch said.

Derek opened his mouth as if ready to make his case against this plan but Hotch cut him off with a raised hand.

"I haven't made any decisions yet. If I do, we'll sit down and have a serious conversation with Spencer about the risks. We can't force him to do this, and he has every right to say no if he feels uncomfortable. Ok? So, for right now, let's just table that, and work on trying to narrow down the list of suspects," Hotch said.

Derek nodded his agreement and decided he'd put his faith in his trusted technical analyst.

"Now, let's get Garcia on the line, and see if we can make a dent in this case," Hotch said, determination evident in his voice.

* * *

A/N: So, there you have it! It seems some things from the past have come back to haunt Spencer. On top of that, what's a boy to do when he has all these  _feelings_  and he has no idea what to do with them? Maybe that boy will try to make a move on the agent who's caught his attention? Who knows… ;P. Guess you'll have to wait and see!

And as a side note, the next chapter might not be out for two or more weeks. I'm currently in the process of interviewing for PhD programs and on top of having to travel out of state, I'll have to use any available time to prep. So, just sit tight! I'll be sure to give you something nice in the next chapter :)


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews and being so patient with me :). Special thanks, as always to my beta-reader Eskimita. And especially, thank you to those of you who gave well wishes for my application process. I got into a PhD program! So yay to that! Plus, I just saw that Kirsten Vangsness favorited one of my tweets, haha, so that was fun :).

Anywho, I'm going to jump right into it: when we last left off, Spencer spent the day with J.J. & Emily as his bodyguards and love coaches; with the help of Garcia the team realized that the Unsub may have been involved with more murders than they originally thought; and Derek unwittingly had a run-in with someone from Spencer's past. Now, we pick up with Derek on his way to change his shift and take Spencer to work. Drama shall ensue (of course ;p). I think (hope?) you guys will like the developments in this chapter. Let's have at it!

xoxo

WH

* * *

It was a few minutes past 3:30 when Derek pulled up outside of Spencer's apartment. It had been a long day, and while he was satisfied that they were following all the right leads, he didn't feel like they were any closer to catching the Unsub. Stone's description of the Unsub as a ghost had been dead-on. Garcia had postulated that it would be difficult to track someone who had no criminal record, especially if the person ran in the upper echelons of society, as they were predicting their Unsub did. It was more apparent than ever that privilege could buy you a lot of protection.

Derek shook his head and turned the car off. He would be happy once this guy—whoever he was—was sitting behind bars. As he exited his vehicle, he signaled to the officer sitting watch. He decided he liked this replacement much better. So far, no one had been able to get past the guy, and Derek believed they could rely on him. Making his way into the building, Derek lightly jogged up the stairs. He felt somewhat excited to see Spencer. After all the stress of the day, the idea of seeing the spirited youth, who he had grown more than just a little fond of, was somewhat comforting.

Knocking lightly on the door, Derek waited as he heard shuffling inside and the sound of the door unlocking.

"Hey, Morgan," Emily said with a smile as she opened the door and stepped back.

"Is the kid ready?" Derek asked, looking around. His eyes landed on J.J., who was sitting on the couch tucking files back into the large box in front of her. She looked up at him and smiled. Spencer was nowhere to be seen.

"Spencer's been… taking a little break. He's been in his room for the last few hours. We checked on him a couple of times and he seems to just be reading, but, I think he was pretty upset after the Unsub's call earlier today. So I think the alone time is giving him a chance to decompress," Emily explained.

Derek walked further into the living room and leaned against the couch.

"Yea, I heard about that. I feel bad that the kid's had all this dumped on him all of a sudden," Derek said with a sigh.

"We tried to talk him out of going to work today, but he kind of blew up on us," J.J. admitted.

"Well… I could've told you that was going to happen," Derek said with a slight chuckle.

He also would have preferred Spencer not going to the club tonight. Now that he knew what really went on there, he personally would have preferred Spencer not returning to the club  _ever,_ but similar to how Spencer had reacted when Derek had tried to tell him he couldn't visit his mother, Derek knew Spencer didn't take kindly to being told what to do.

"But, I think we'll be fine," Derek continued. "This Unsub's a coward. He seems to like to strike where there's no one around to see him. I don't think he'd attack Spencer in the club. And, in any case, I'll be sticking close to the kid. No one's going to get a chance to try anything on him."

"How are you going to pull that off when Spencer's actually… doing his  _job_?" Emily asked, genuinely curious.

Derek frowned.

"Well… Spencer's going to have to allow for some accommodation on that point," Derek said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Emily grimaced sympathetically.

"Good luck with that, buddy," she said as she patted his arm.

Derek shook his head as he pushed away from the couch and made his way into the back hallway. He knocked lightly on Spencer's door.

"Hey, kid! It's Morgan, I'm here to take you to work. You ready?" he called.

Instead of a response, the door opened and Derek took a step back, not expecting it.

Spencer was standing in front of him, satchel strapped across his chest and shoes on.

"I'm ready," Spencer responded, as he tried to push past the older man standing in his way.

Derek placed a hand up against the boy's chest and held him in place.

Spencer looked down at the large hand settled against his breast bone, and then up at the agent, slight annoyance written on his face.

"Just wait a minute, kid." Derek said as he pulled his hand back. "Are you ok? I heard what happened with the Unsub today. I also heard that J.J. and Emily tried to convince you to take the day off, but you refused. I kind of figured you'd do that, but it doesn't change the fact that it could be dangerous for you out there. If you want to talk about anything, I told you I'm here."

Spencer sighed softly and glanced down at his feet.

"Talking to that guy today was… definitely not pleasant. He said some really despicable things. But, I'm fine," Spencer said as he finally looked up. "Besides, I do trust you guys to look out for me."

Derek smiled upon hearing that.

"Great to hear, kid. I'm going to be with you all night. So you've got nothing to worry about," Derek said as he stepped back letting Spencer walk past him.

"Hmm… We're probably going to have to talk about that," Spencer mumbled to himself as he made his way down the hall.

As the two walked back into the living room, Emily and J.J. were just finishing packing up their boxes. They sent hesitant smiles in Spencer's direction and he returned theirs with a genuine one, to their relief.

"I'm fine you guys," Spencer said. "Thanks for looking out for me today. I really appreciate it."

Emily gave him a wide smile and nudged him slightly.

"It was our pleasure, really. You're a great kid, Spencer," she told him, causing him to blush.

Sending Spencer a big smile of her own, J.J. reached over and opened the door for them.

"Let's walk out together," she said happily.

* * *

Hours later, Derek was seated at the  _Mon Petit Chien_ bar. He had been sitting there, pretending not to be watching Spencer, for the last few hours. Things inside the club were slow before the main show started and it currently seemed to have the relaxed vibe of an after-work social hour. While Spencer was running drinks, Derek would engage the bartender, expressing his curiosity on the club's infrastructure. Whenever Spencer returned to the bar to place or retrieve orders, he would chat with Derek for a few minutes. Derek noticed that Spencer was smiling easily, and seemed relaxed. It was as if Spencer actually appreciated Derek's presence. And Derek felt happy to be able to give the kid some much needed stress-relief.

When Spencer next returned to the bar, Derek watched with interest as he handed over his serving tray to the man standing behind the bar.

"What's going on?" Derek asked.

"Well… it's almost 8:30. I've gotta get ready for my shows…" Spencer said as he averted his eyes.

Derek frowned.

"Yeah…we've got to talk about that," Derek said.

Spencer faced him head on, his light-brown eyes leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm going to go do my job." He said plainly.

"Look… I'm not telling you that you  _can't_ , but I've got to be there," Derek said, just as simply.

Spencer flushed, eyes widening in disbelief.

" _What_? You can't be there while I'm performing. They're  _private_  shows," Spencer hissed, lowering his voice.

Derek found himself flushing as well.

"I'm not going to  _watch_ , I just need to be someplace where I can see who's coming and going," he explained.

"I don't know how that's going to work," Spencer said, his irritation apparent.

"We'll  _make_  it work. I'm not going to allow you out of my sight, kid." Derek said, crossing his arms.

Throwing his hands up in frustration, Spencer pushed away from the bar and started walking towards the back of the club. Surprised, Derek jumped to his feet, and pursued the irritated boy.

"Kid!" Derek demanded as he tried to catch up with Spencer.

But Spencer ignored him as he pushed his way through the "Employees-Only" door and into the bustling corridor. Spencer squeezed past his coworkers, many of who were currently dressed in colorful spandex outfits for the upcoming main-show. Derek slammed the door open after him, fighting his way past the crowd and trying to maintain sight of Spencer.

The boy had made it halfway down the hallway and had almost stepped inside the changing room when Derek grabbed him by his arm and yanked him to a stop.

"Hey," Derek said, forcing Spencer to look at him. "You can't do stuff like this, kid."

Spencer pulled his arm from Derek's and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

"I… I'm not comfortable with all this," Spencer said with a frown. "I don't like the idea of you being there…"

Derek blinked at Spencer in surprise. It sounded as if Spencer had a problem with Derek,  _specifically_ , seeing what he did. He wondered how he would be able to assuage the boy's concerns enough to allow him to do his job.

"All I want to do is make sure you're safe," Derek said, placing a hand on Spencer's shoulder and forcing him to look at him. "You might think nobody can get at you here, but you remember how the Unsub was able to sneak in, and do what he did, without anyone noticing, right? I can't run the risk of something like that happening to you again."

Spencer's brow furrowed as he quietly stared at Derek. Derek looked into Spencer's light brown eyes and wondered why the boy looked like he was working through some type of problem. But then Spencer looked away from him and sighed in defeat.

"It seems like I have no choice," he said, casting a disgruntled look in the agent's direction.

"The best I can do is have you stand watch outside the door to my room. Go through there," Spencer said as he pointed to a red door at the end of the corridor.

"My room's number 6. But, I swear to God, you better not cause any trouble for me, and don't talk to  _any_ of my clients," Spencer warned as he locked eyes with Derek and poked him in the chest.

Derek looked down at the slight figure who was literally threatening him and fought to hold back his smile. He was sure Spencer wouldn't appreciate him laughing in his face.

"Scout's honor," Derek said with a grin. "I'll be quiet as a mouse."

Spencer rolled his eyes but nodded and motioned for Derek to leave.

Derek glanced around the busy hallway, hesitating for a moment.

"You sure you'll be ok back here?" he asked.

"Yes, Yes," Spencer said with a huff. "Now, I need to get dressed. I've got a client in less than 20 minutes."

Derek nodded and gently squeezed Spencer's shoulder, then he turned and walked out through the door the boy had indicated.

Spencer frowned slightly, as he watched after the agent, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot the agent had just touched, still feeling the slight warmth of the man's hand.

* * *

Derek leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for Spencer's show to start. He tried not to think too much about it. He knew Spencer could disassociate when he was performing, but it didn't help him feel any better that he would be standing outside all night while Spencer acted out a litany of depraved acts for his customers. He had already seen a few men of differing ages make their way down the hall and into the other rooms. They had all given him curious looks, but no one had stopped and asked him any questions.

Another man began walking down the carpeted hallway and Derek watched him carefully as he glanced at all the numbers on the doors as he slowly made his way down, as if unsure which one he was going to. As he neared Derek, and came to a stop, the man watched the agent warily, eyes shifting from the door number above their heads to the agent's dark eyes. Derek raised an eyebrow at the man, and felt like he could see the man visibly start shaking. An embarrassed flush made its way up the man's neck to his cheeks, and he quickly ducked his head and hurriedly made his way back down the hallway. Derek shrugged his shoulders in disinterest and went back to standing guard outside the room.

Fifteen minutes later the sound of the door banging open at the end of the hallway caught Derek's' attention and his hand reflexively went to the holstered weapon at his hip. When the door swung fully open, it revealed the form of Lindy Roth, Spencer's manager. Derek watched in confusion as the petite woman stomped her way down the hallway. She was dressed in a dark red blouse, a tight pencil skirt, and impossibly high red stiletto heels. Not a strand of her straight blonde bob was out of place. A displeased frown tugged down the corners of her brightly painted red lips. Everything about her signaled that she meant business.

She stopped in front of him for a second, looking him up and down. She then rolled her eyes and let out a sound of exasperation. Without pausing to say a word to him, she pushed open the door to Spencer's room and stepped inside. Derek followed after her, curious as to what was happening.

As Lindy stormed up to a small two-way speaker, Derek took in the sight in front of him and felt his mouth fall open in awe. Spencer was sitting behind the glass, prettily poised on a cushioned chair, dressed from head to toe in shiny, black pleather. His eyes were closed, and lips slightly parted, like he knew he was meant to be an enticing display. And a display he was.

The paleness of his arms stood out in stark contrast against the black of the sleeveless, zipper-front vest he wore. A shiny metal chain connected the vest to the small zippered shorts that adorned his hips, allowing for tantalizing glimpses at his taut stomach. His long legs, currently crossed at the knee, were adorned in knee-high patent leather boots. And a long leather whip dangled by his feet, held lightly between his slender fingers. Derek swallowed thickly as his eyes took in the entirety of boy's outfit.

The voice of Spencer's irate manager cut into Derek's musings.

"You! Get in my office, now!" Lindy snapped at the boy as she pressed down on the intercom button. "You just had a client cancel on you!"

Spencer's eyes shot open and he jumped to his feet once he realized that his boss and the agent had stormed into the room. He stared at her with wide eyes, and then his eyes snapped to Derek. His face immediately flushed in embarrassment and he dropped the whip he had been clutching in his hands. He tried to speak but Lindy cut him off.

"Now! Now! Now!" she demanded, obviously out of patience.

Spencer snapped his mouth shut and nodded silently, and Derek watched as he scrambled to the door and disappeared.

"What-?" Derek began as he turned to the manager.

"Don't 'what' me! I put up with this shit when you were in the bar, but you basically just chased a paying customer away. I can't have this," Lindy said as she turned and stormed out of the room.

Derek followed after her, a frown on his face.

"I didn't scare that guy away," Derek said as he let her lead him down the hall and up a flight of stairs. Their brisk pace quickly brought them in front of a dark door, a floor above the private rooms.

"You think any pervert's going to walk into a room to get his rocks off when some glaring muscle-bound guy is standing guard outside? You basically  _scream_  cop," Lindy said as she turned around and looked him up and down.

Derek prepared to retort, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Spencer walking hurriedly towards them from the opposite end of the hallway. He tried to get the boy's attention but Spencer walked right past him, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Lindy reached past him and opened a door, allowing Spencer to enter.

" _You_  stay out here, Agent," Lindy said as she put a hand up, stopping Derek's movement.

Derek glared, but allowed Lindy to turn and enter her office, closing the door behind her.

* * *

"Take a seat, Spencer," Lindy said as she sighed.

She watched as the thin boy lowered himself into one of the red leather armchairs facing her desk. Observing him silently she noticed how nervous he looked, with his shoulders hunched and bottom lip tucked snugly between his teeth. He also looked tired. Spencer had never been talkative, or even energetic, at work but the last few days—well, since the  _murder_ to be exact—he had been especially jumpy, withdrawn and distracted. She had always known he wasn't exactly cut out for this type of work. He was never really confident when he tried to turn on the sex appeal. And when he  _did_  try to talk to people, he would start to ramble off about statistics and strange facts that his colleagues could never quite follow. He was like an anomaly. But, he had asked for a job here, and she had seen something appealing about his shyness and awkward-nature. Even though he had been a gamble, she had known she could use him. But, now, Spencer was becoming a liability.

Sighing, she perched herself on the edge of her desk, crossing her legs and clasping her hands over her knees. Spencer still had not met her eyes.

"Hey, hey!" Lindy said as she snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Look up here! Come on, don't waste my time."

Spencer immediately snapped his head up to look at her.

Lindy smiled at him, and Spencer relaxed a bit, thinking she wasn't actually as angry as she had first seemed. But the smile didn't quite meet her eyes and when she finally opened her mouth, Spencer braced himself for her words.

"Spencer, it's time you got over yourself," Lindy said, the sweet tone belying her true intent.

"You barely bring in enough money here as it is. You think any other club would let you get away with acting like a little prima donna and telling the management what you 'will and won't' do? Because of that, you don't book as many clients as the other boys and girls. And it's bad enough that you have some kind of hang up about penetration. Most men don't want to see you just sucking on a dildo; they want to see it shoved up your ass," she spat, causing Spencer to cringe uncomfortably and blush at her bluntness.

"And I could never get over the fact that you had the audacity to make demands like that to me, especially when I was the only one willing to give you a chance," she continued, training her cold eyes on him. "But, I still let you work here because I knew that kid-face of yours could cater to a certain type of skeezy clientele."

Spencer looked away from her, ashamed.

"But now you're not bringing in  _any_  business, kid," she said, causing him to look up, confusion evident on his face.

"What'd you think?" Lindy asked as she rolled her eyes. "Of course the clients heard about that fuck-up LaRoux getting murdered in our club! It ended up being all over the fucking news, Spencer! It didn't take long for people to figure out he had been here to see 'number 6.' What do you think your regulars did after hearing that? They got out of dodge and started canceling appointments!"

Spencer stared at her in disbelief. He couldn't say anything in response.

"I've been putting up with you because you could at least bring in regulars, and those guys were pretty kinky so they were willing to pay the premium prices for the extras. But don't confuse my willingness to accommodate all your bullshit requests with kindness. I don't care about all your issues. This is a  _business,_ not a charity, and I'm not going to pay you if you don't work. I can find another wide-eyed, leggy jail-bait-looking twink in a second, kid. Don't think you're anything special," she warned.

"Lindy, I-" Spencer began but she raised one perfectly manicured hand, effectively cutting him off.

"You had  _one_  client booked tonight, Spencer. He was a newbie and from out of town. I think he's the only person who  _hasn't_ heard about the murder. And guess what happened to him? Your little personal body guard scared him away. And he took his money  _with_ him! On top of that, I've been fielding questions left and right from the other customers, wondering why cops and Feds have been crawling around here. I don't need this shit, Spencer. It's bad for business," she hissed at him.

Spencer flushed, looking down at his hands.

"I… there's someone who's been threatening me. H-he calls me and… They think it's the same guy who killed Mr. Victor…" Spencer mumbled out softly.

Lindy laughed in disbelief.

" _Yeah_ , right. So you've got some customer from the club who wants to make the experience a little more real. It happens all the time. Next time he calls tell him you'll give him a little personalized service at the club if he lays off bothering you at home. And, hey, genius, change your number," Lindy said.

"I don't think it's that simple-" Spencer began, only to be cut off by Lindy again.

"You need to call off these FBI goons," she said sharply, leaving no room for argument.

"I  _can't_. They said it's necessary to go everywhere with me," he said, feeling his face heat up at the admission. He hated being seen as weak and needing protection.

"I don't want them here, and if they're going to continue following you everywhere, well… it's probably best that  _you_  don't come here either, then," she said, the fake smile returning to her face.

Spencer stared at her in silence.

"Wait… are you saying that-" he began.

Lindy sighed.

"You're a smart boy, Spencer," she said as she shrugged. "Next time you come to work, I want you to be  _alone_  and have your head in the game. If not, don't bother coming back."

Spencer bit his lip. He didn't know if it was to stop himself from shouting at her or if it was to stop himself from crying. He was  _so_  angry.

Hearing no response, Lindy pushed herself off the edge of the desk and on to her feet.

"And as for right now," she said as she glanced down at her red nails. "I don't think we'll be needing you for the rest of the night. You don't have any more clients booked so you'll just be taking up space."

Looking back up at the boy, Lindy smiled toothily.

"By the way, you don't have any more clients for the rest of the  _week_ , Spencer. So, you might want to give some thought to going back to shaking your ass on the main stage. I know you were against doing it before, but we don't have the luxury of being picky anymore now that work is scarce, now do we?" she asked, in that sickly sweet tone.

Spencer paled at that. He  _hated_  dancing on the main stage. He would have to take his clothes off in front of a room full of people. He'd have to let them touch him…

"That's all I'm going to say. I don't want to see your face anymore," Lindy said as she shooed at him, signaling that she wanted him to leave.

Getting to his feet quietly and saying nothing to her, Spencer turned and let himself out of the office. Once the door closed behind him, he was immediately accosted by the concerned face of one Agent Derek Morgan.

"Hey, kid. Everything okay?" Derek asked, hesitantly.

Spencer looked up at him, eyebrows drawn down in an angry glare and trying hard to contain his roiling emotions.

"No, everything's not "okay!" Spencer snapped, as he turned away from Derek and started walking away.

Derek trotted after him, confusion apparent on his face.

"Because of you, and your team, and your goddamn investigation I'm on the verge of losing my fucking  _job_!" Spencer said, refusing to look behind him. "You're scaring away my customers! On top of the fact that the few I already had are too afraid to book with me after what happened to Mr. Victor in my room! And now Lindy's sending me home early! I can't  _live_  like this. How am I going to make money if no one's booking me? Lindy said I'm going to have to start dancing on the stage again. I can't  _do_ that!"

Derek felt his heart clenching at Spencer's panicked words. The boy was agitated and wouldn't look at him, purposefully walking ahead of him even though he knew Derek wanted to talk. It seemed like Spencer was on the edge, and barely balancing.

Catching up to Spencer, Derek grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around.

Spencer was angry, but his eyes were wet, and he was blinking rapidly to try to clear the evidence from his eyes.

"Kid… shit, that wasn't our intention," Derek said, sincerely. "We're not trying to cause trouble for you. We'll try to figure something out, ok?"

"Figure something out!? How are you going to make it so that people forget someone was  _killed_  here? And how are you magically going to make it so I have enough money to pay my bills? You say all this stuff, as if it's going to suddenly be okay. But you're going to be gone as soon as you catch this guy and where does that leave  _me_? Why do I have to be the one left feeling all this  _shit_?" Spencer snapped.

He then turned from the agent and pulled open the door at the end of the hallway, making his way down the short flight of stairs and into the next hallway, as Derek rushed to follow behind him.

Spencer quickly marched down the hallway, ignoring Derek's shouts to "wait." A few customers and dancers were milling about the hall either on their way to the main showroom or heading towards the champagne rooms. Spencer easily side-stepped them, focusing on the floor in front of him, and tried to tune out the persistent shouts of the agent behind him. All he wanted to do was make it back to the dressing room, change, and go home. There was no point in dwelling on Lindy's words right now. He could think of a plan once he was alone in the privacy of his own home. He just needed to escape this place…escape the feeling of the walls closing in around him.

As he walked past a man who was swaying slightly, Spencer gasped as he felt himself get pushed up against the wall. The man's breath reeked of alcohol, and Spencer cringed as he felt a hand slide down his back and land on his ass, squeezing suggestively.

"Hey, hey now, Baby. Why the long face? Dressed up so pretty like this, you should be having  _fuuun_ ," the man slurred, trying to grind his groin against Spencer's.

Before Spencer could open his mouth to protest, he felt the man's hands leave him and heard the sickening thud of his body and face being slammed against the wall next to him. The man let out a pained gasp and tried to struggle as his arm was yanked behind his back in a painful twist.

Spencer looked up with wide eyes to see Derek looming over the man, eyebrows lowered in an angry glare and breathing heavily, as if he were trying to calm himself.

"Derek!" Spencer called out, voice high-pitched and anxious.

Seeing that some of the dancers and customers had stopped to stare at the scene in front of them in shock, Spencer panicked and stepped closer to Derek, placing his hand on the agent's arm to get his attention.

" _Agent_   _Morgan_ ," Spencer hissed, quietly. "You're causing a scene!"

Derek glanced at the wide-eyed boy, and then threw a quick look behind him to take in the on-lookers. Derek was un-phased.

"This asshole just tried to feel you up," he stated plainly, anger still edging his voice.

Spencer blushed and tried not to make eye contact with the others in the hall.

"That's not a  _crime_! It's a fucking strip-club, the customers are allowed to touch the dancers, ok?" Spencer whispered hurriedly.

Derek locked eyes with Spencer.

"You don't have to put up with people like this just man-handling you, kid," Derek said, as if Spencer was being unreasonable.

Spencer shook his head and winced when he heard the man pressed against the wall let out another pained groan.

"Y-you need to let him go, before I get  _fired_ ," he told Derek, a warning tone in his voice.

Derek hesitated a moment, but sighed, giving the man's arm another good twist before he finally released him. The man exhaled in relief as the agent stepped back and he turned around angrily.

"What the hell were you thinking, you asshole! You could've ripped my freaking arm off! I oughta fuck you up right here, right now," the man spat, words still slightly slurred and eyes appearing glazed.

"Man, if you know what's good for you, you'll walk away. Take some time to sober up," Derek warned, giving the man an icy glare.

The man closed his mouth, but returned the agent's glare. They both stood their ground, staring each other down for a moment. Then the inebriated man looked away, letting out a curse under his breath and turned, hurriedly stumbling down the hallway. Seeing that the commotion was over, the onlookers slowly dispersed, murmuring to themselves and throwing curious glances back in the direction of Spencer and Derek.

Spencer let out a relieved sigh, and then turned to Derek. He looked up at the frowning, mocha-skinned agent. His posture seemed to say that he was ready to give Spencer a piece of his mind as well. But Spencer was just too worn out to put up a fight. Instead, he looked at the older man carefully, his wide, clear eyes showing his confusion.

"Why do you keep  _doing_  this?" Spencer asked, his voice quiet.

Derek groaned as he ran a hand over his face in frustration. What didn't the kid  _get_? Here he was again, acting as if he wasn't  _worth_  fighting for.

"I'm doing it because I care about you and I don't want to see you get hurt!" Derek snapped, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Just let me take care of you, dammit!"

Spencer stared up at the agent, eyes widened in shock. Why was it that every time Derek said things like this Spencer felt something in his chest clench and jump, as if it was trying to leap out?  _Was this what Emily and J.J. had been talking about?_  Spencer wondered to himself.

Derek's eyes widened after a moment, as if he had just registered what he said.

"Shit... kid, what I meant to say-" Derek began, as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"I-I need to go get changed," Spencer blurted out, interrupting Derek's words.

Derek's brow creased slightly, as if he didn't know if he should let Spencer go, or if he should persist in trying to explain himself.

But Spencer didn't stop to give Derek the time to make up his mind. He was already walking down the hallway, a small silly smile on his lips. Derek could do little but follow. He would make sure he cleared things up with the kid later.

* * *

When they returned to the apartment, some of the tension had lifted from Spencer's shoulders. He couldn't say he was happy he had been asked to leave work early, but it wouldn't have mattered if he stayed. If his clients were canceling, he wouldn't be getting paid much tonight anyway. But the one good thing that had happened—in Spencer's opinion—were the words that had slipped from Derek Morgan's mouth.

Spencer shrugged off his satchel and dropped it in a corner near the door. He was aware of the agent standing behind him, seeming as if he still wanted to 'talk' about their conversation in the club. He had tried to bring it up in the car, but Spencer had steered the conversation away from the subject, not wanting to give the man a chance to take the words back.

"I'm going to go change," Spencer said suddenly, as he turned around and faced Derek.

"Ok," Derek said, sounding caught off guard. "Well, I'll be waiting right out here."

Spencer nodded, and then he was heading down the hallway to his bedroom.

Derek sighed as he moved over to the couch and settled down on to it. Something had seemed slightly 'off' about Spencer since their argument in the club. The boy had seemed to understand that Derek was just looking out for him, but there was something about the way the kid was looking at him lately that made him somewhat uncomfortable. A little hot under the collar, to be exact… Spencer had been making a lot more eye contact that day, and every time the boy's wide, honey-colored eyes lingered on his, Derek felt his mouth getting dry and his heartrate increase slightly.

_That's not good_ , he thought to himself, as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Derek couldn't help but think it was lucky that he wouldn't be spending the night at Spencer's. While he would feel more at ease watching the kid himself, his team was going to be staking out Spencer's neighborhood tonight. They'd have a uniformed officer stand guard outside Spencer's door in their absence. Garcia had confirmed to them that no bugs were found when the tech team had swept Spencer's apartment earlier in the day. Derek had been relieved to hear that. It meant that it was likely the Unsub had never been bold enough to actually enter Spencer's apartment. However, it had made it all the more likely that the Unsub was lingering nearby. Orchestrating a stakeout could be a good chance for them to intercept him.

The team was currently in position and had been since around 8:00. They hadn't expected Spencer to be returning so early, and after he explained the situation to them, he had told them he would bring Spencer up to his apartment and make sure he got settled. Derek was even thinking he might wait until the kid fell asleep. He knew the stakeout would likely be an all-night affair and, before they knew of the change in Spencer's work schedule, the team had already been expecting him to join them later in the night anyway. They probably wouldn't miss him if he took an extra hour to make sure Spencer was at ease.

Derek opened his eyes and looked up when he heard the sound of a door opening, and the soft padding of feet. Spencer then appeared, face dewy and pink as if it had just been washed. He was sporting his glasses and an old sci-fi t-shirt, along with a pair of dark gray lounge pants.

Derek smiled at him. For some reason, he liked seeing Spencer like this. It told him that Spencer still held on to the vestiges of who he had been before all his troubles had started. Derek liked the idea that Spencer had never given up his true self, and that the 'mask' Spencer wore at the club could easily be washed off. The Spencer standing before him was nothing like the tense and somber boy he had been arguing with just half an hour ago in the hallways of  _Mon Petit Chien_.

Spencer smiled back at him, the little crinkle of confusion in his brow showing that he wasn't quite sure what had caused the agent to smile. He walked over and plopped himself down on the couch next to the larger man, stretching slightly, arching his back like a cat.

"You tired, kid?" Derek asked as his eyes watched the flexing of the boy's lithe body. As Spencer stretched, his t-shirt raised slightly, exposing that small expanse of skin around his bellybutton that Derek found himself becoming quite partial towards.

"No… not really, probably the opposite. Feeling a little wired, I guess. But I'm just happy to be home," Spencer said, as he stretched a bit more.

He then glanced up at Derek, who looked away quickly. It had felt like Derek's eyes had just been  _on_  him… had he imagined it?

"Ok… well, I can sit with you for a while if you want? Until you calm down a little bit?" Derek offered.

Spencer nodded slightly, still staring at the agent curiously.

_He wasn't staring, was he_? Spencer wondered to himself. The thought made him blush a little.

"So… you've got that stakeout tonight, huh?" Spencer asked as he stared down at his hands, suddenly feeling like he couldn't look at Derek's face.

"Yeah… it won't be anything too exciting. We probably won't even see anything. But, at least there'll be a lot of law enforcement officers on your block tonight. You can sleep soundly, knowing you're going to be protected from all sides," Derek said, throwing Spencer a wide smile.

"Hmm," Spencer hummed, as he reached over and grabbed the remote. Flicking it on, he absently scrolled through channels as his mind wandered. He tried not to focus on the hot throb he had felt in his chest when Derek had smiled that toothy smile at him. The more Spencer thought about it, the less he could deny to himself that Derek was attractive. That  _he_  was attracted  _to_  Derek…

Settling on an old episode of Star Trek, and falling into a comfortable silence with the agent sitting next to him, Spencer nibbled lightly at his lip as he thought about what he wanted to do. He was bothered… that was the best word he could think to describe his feelings. He felt antsy, and hot, like he couldn't sit still. And he was hyper-aware of Derek sitting next to him. Even when the older man shifted to put one of his feet up on the coffee table and yawned slightly, all of Spencer's senses tuned into him.

Spencer wondered if he should try something… test out his theory that Derek might like him. Emily's voice from earlier was suddenly echoing in his head: " _Flirt, kid_." Spencer swallowed nervously as he glanced at Derek from the corner of his eye. Sure, he knew how to talk to guys to make them want  _sex_. But he had no idea how to talk to someone to make them want  _him_. Spencer felt that they were, somehow, different things.

But his thoughts wandered slightly to the idea of Derek and… sex. Did he want that from Derek? He had never wanted that from  _anybody_. But the agent's kind smile, deep laugh, and warm, chocolate eyes drew him in and did something to Spencer's head. And he couldn't deny that he had liked the way it felt to be enveloped in Derek's arms, completely surrounded by the older man's larger body. Plus, Derek was always  _touching_  him. It had gotten to the point that Spencer didn't even flinch when the agent laid his large, warm hands on him. Now he had actually started to  _crave_  the other man's touch. He thought he might like it if Derek touched him… maybe in other places…

"You know how I was saying I don't think I'd like doing it with a guy?" Spencer suddenly blurted out.

Derek glanced at the boy, with his eyebrows raised. He could never quite understand this kid's train of thought. It always seemed like his questions came from out of left field. Derek wondered if maybe having the brain of a genius meant the kid's mind ran a mile a minute, but whatever it was, Derek just couldn't keep up. He had no idea how they went from comfortably watching Star Trek to suddenly talking about Spencer's thoughts on his sexual preferences.

Seeing that Derek wasn't going to respond to his question, Spencer shifted so that he was sitting up on his knees facing the older man.

Sighing, Derek rubbed his temples and turned to face Spencer. For some reason, his heart was racing. He felt slightly apprehensive about what the boy was going to say.

"Well, I've tried it on myself once before… with my fingers. And I didn't really like it… I just didn't get the appeal, you know?" Spencer said nonchalantly.

Derek felt his face heat up.

_This kid has no fucking filter!_  He thought to himself.

"Come on, kid, you're killing me here," he said as he ran his hand over his face. "Do you really think you should be talking to  _me_ , of all people, about that?"

Derek's mind was racing. He really didn't understand what was going on.

Spencer smiled slightly as he could see Derek blushing faintly; for some reason that gave him a little more confidence.

"Well," Spencer continued, "a lot of the guys at the club—and some of the girls, too—said they really like doing it… you know, 'back there.'"

Spencer leaned forward on his hands and inched a little closer to Derek, who by now was staring at him with wide eyes, looking like he was ready to bolt.

"So, I thought to myself, maybe I'm not doing it right… Like, maybe my fingers aren't long enough or maybe I don't know how to hit my spot. I dunno… but suddenly I think I want to try it. You know, see what it's supposed to feel like," Spencer said as he locked eyes with Derek. "And I thought maybe… you'd want to try it with me?"

Derek's eyes grew even larger. The atmosphere in the room had changed so suddenly. One minute, Spencer was the demure and often-times awkward little genius he had gotten to know over the past few days. The next, he was the embodiment of a sex kitten. It didn't matter that this Spencer was the one in the nerdy sci-fi t-shirt. The kid's  _eyes_  were those of the boy he knew probably took men's breath away in that club.

"Sp-Spencer," Derek said, throat strangely dry all of a sudden. "What are you talking about?"

Spencer leaned forward even more, and this time his hands were able to rest on Derek's thighs as his knees were nestled between them.

"Well, I dunno," Spencer said looking up at Derek coyly, cheeks glowing a soft pink. "I feel like you've been…you know,  _looking_  at me a lot differently lately. Kind of like you're interested, you know? I think you kind of gave me that look on the first day I met you, to be honest. And then yesterday morning…at the station."

Derek cleared his throat as he leaned back away from the boy, putting a hand up between them to widen the space. He didn't like hearing that Spencer had sensed something in the way he had looked at him the morning following his problematic dream. He had thought he had done a better job hiding the dream's effects on him. Apparently not. Derek knew he had to get a handle on this situation before things slipped out of his control and he did something he would regret.

"I don't know what you're talking about, and honestly, Spencer, this is really inappropriate-," but Derek's words were cut off as he suddenly felt Spencer's hand lightly grip him between his legs.

"Well, I think maybe you should let me show you. I give an amazing blow jo—whoa! You're pretty big," Spencer said with wide eyes as he squeezed the slightly engorged length.

Derek was off the couch in a matter of seconds, breathing heavily as he rapidly tried to process what was going on.

_What just happened? What the fuck just happened? Did Spencer feel me up? Did he really just proposition me? And why the_ _ **fuck**_   _am I hard right now?_  Derek's panicked mind rattled off.

"Not ok, Spencer. NOT ok," Derek finally managed to speak as he looked at the boy still kneeling provocatively on the couch. Derek was glad that the couch was separating them; he wasn't sure how much his resolve would hold up if Spencer touched him again.

"This is really inappropriate, kid. You can't be doing stuff like this. I don't know what's going through that head of yours, but there's no way that this is going to happen. I'm a Federal agent. We're working a case. And you're a material witness." Derek panted out, trying to look anywhere but at the enticing sight in front of him.

"Ok…" Spencer trailed off as he looked up at Derek with those doe eyes. "I hear all that... But, you never said it was because you didn't like me."

Derek stared at the boy, who stared back at him expectantly.

_Fuck!_  Derek thought to himself. He wished he didn't find him so alluring; it would have made it much easier to make this believable. But, as of right now, Derek had no answer for the boy.

"I'm leaving, Spencer," Derek said quickly as he grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch. "This… this isn't going to happen again. And we're both going to focus on the case from here on out. You got me?"

Spencer frowned but nodded slowly.

"Good," Derek huffed as he strolled to the door.

Stopping before he opened it, Derek muttered out a "'Night, kid."

Then he was out the door and it was slamming behind him before Spencer could say anything in response.

Flopping down on the couch after Derek had left, Spencer placed his hand over his heart to feel the organ's rapid beating. He couldn't believe he had done that. He had  _fondled_  Agent Derek Morgan. He was surprised he had been so bold, and he hadn't even known he was going to do it before his hand had started its descent. But, now he was kind of glad that he had. He hadn't been expecting to actually find that Derek was  _hard_. He thought maybe through some teasing and prodding, he could get the agent excited and on board for… well, exactly what he wasn't sure. But, to his surprise, he hadn't had to do much to get that.

_He's into me, right?_  Spencer wondered to himself, feeling his face heat slightly.

It was foreign for him to think that, and even more foreign for him to actually  _want_  that kind of attention from someone. He didn't know how to feel. All he knew was that, suddenly and strangely, he had become enamored with Agent Derek Morgan. It had gone from strong, almost visceral dislike, to reluctant acceptance, then to budding camaraderie. And now his body literally  _throbbed_  at the thought of him. That was new.

Moving his hand tentatively down his chest, the boy closed his eyes and sighed. His body felt so hot, at the thought of being with Derek Morgan. He wondered if he would touch him gently. He wondered if he could make him feel loved…

* * *

When Derek left Spencer's apartment, he was practically running. He hadn't even responded to the uniformed officer who was stationed in Spencer's hallway when the man called out a friendly "Good night" to him. As Derek reached the bottom landing and made his way outside, he took a deep breath. He knew he had to calm down, and get his shit together before his colleagues noticed.

His mind really couldn't process what had just taken place in Spencer's apartment.  _What was the kid trying to do_ , Derek wondered to himself. Just days before, Spencer had seemed mad at the world. He had, in particular, seemed like he wanted to take Derek's head off the first day they met. Now, he was staring up at Derek with needy eyes, lips parted, and saying such devilishly seductive things, it had Derek wondering if Spencer had a twin. But… he had to admit to himself that he knew he had been spending an inordinately large amount of time with Spencer lately. He had basically made it so he spent the most time with Spencer out of anyone else on the team. So much so that Hotch had chastised him for it on more than one occasion.

Was it his fault that Spencer had grown… attached? Was that even the word for it? Derek thought back to his conversation with Spencer at  _Mon Petit Chien_  earlier that night. Spencer had said something during their argument that had caught Derek's attention, but he hadn't had time to really think about it earlier. Spencer had said, "Why do I have to be the one left feeling all this  _shit_?" Had Spencer actually developed  _feelings_ , Derek wondered.

He groaned to himself as he quickly jogged across the street and turned down the block, heading towards where he knew one of the surveillance vehicles were stationed. He couldn't even begin to think about all the complications it would create if Spencer had started developing feelings for him. Derek could easily ignore his  _own_  feelings (whatever they were, Derek hadn't yet decided) for the boy. He was fond of Spencer; he wanted to take care of him and help heal his wounds. And he would admit it... he was more than just a little bit attracted to the boy. But he knew how to not act on those feelings. He knew it would be wrong if he did. And he knew that if he just gave himself time, and especially the distance that would come with the end of this case, he would be able to put it behind him. Derek knew how to see it for what it really was. Infatuation.

But, Spencer… it was obvious Spencer had never trusted anyone. He was just a kid and all his life had been up to now was disappointment after disappointment. Spencer didn't know what it meant to have someone look out for him, show him affection and care, and want to make him happy, instead of hurt him. Wasn't Spencer just getting attached because Derek had been kind? Because Derek had swooped in when he needed to be saved?

_There's no way Spencer Reid actually wants to be with me,_ Derek thought to himself with a frown.  _He's just confused_.

Shaking these concerning thoughts from his head as the panel van came into view, Derek schooled his face not wanting his colleagues to profile him, like he knew they were wont to do. Tapping lightly on the rear bumper, as he had been instructed to do, he waited as the back doors opened up and he was met with Emily Prentiss' smiling face.

"Hey there," she said as she stepped back, allowing him to hop into the van.

"How'd things go with Spencer?" J.J. asked after he had walked further in and nodded to Hotch and Rossi. Derek had to school his face to not react to J.J.'s question.

"Things… are fine." He said as he took a seat.

Emily raised an eyebrow as she looked at him.

"Well… last time you talked to us it sounded like he was about to lose his job," she said with a frown.

Hotch pulled off his headphones and turned to face his team.

"I don't want to cause any unnecessary stress for Spencer. It makes no sense for us to upturn his life when we'll probably be gone in a few days," Hotch said. "I'm ok with allowing you to monitor him from the outside, keeping track of who's coming and going. I'm confident at this point that the Unsub isn't going to try to do anything to Spencer inside the club. He seems more focused on getting Spencer alone."

Derek, J.J. and Emily nodded their understanding.

"Sounds like it for sure," J.J. said. "He almost lost it when he was talking to us earlier. As if he was offended that we thought Spencer needed us to watch him."

Derek found himself not wanting to talk about the Unsub anymore. The man's ability to stay two steps ahead of them and come and go without their knowledge really rubbed him the wrong way. Instead, he pulled out a chair next to Hotch and Rossi who were watching the cameras trained on Spencer's building. There were views of the front of the building, side streets, and the fence-enclosed courtyard at the back.

"Anything interesting?" Derek asked as he leaned forward to get a better look at the grainy images.

"It's all pretty quiet. This is a mostly residential street, so we don't expect to see too much foot traffic at this time of night," Hotch said.

"We've got Garcia tapped into Spencer's phone, as well. If the Unsub tries to make a call to him, she'll be able to record whatever he says," Rossi told him.

Derek nodded, happy to hear they had all their bases covered.

"Garcia told me earlier that she's making good headway with the list," J.J. mentioned.

"Yeah?" Derek asked, glancing back at the blonde woman.

"She told me she's got it down to about 70 names. Gotta say I'm impressed," she said with a smile.

"That's good to hear. Garcia also found some information earlier that might connect an originally unrelated homicide to our Unsub. I sent Morgan earlier to interview the current owner of the victim's establishment, and he found a further connection to the club and those private events Spencer mentioned before," Hotch informed them, as he glanced at Derek. "There's a party coming up this Friday and we discussed the possibility of having Spencer attend one to gather more information."

Derek gritted his teeth but said nothing as he looked at his supervisor.

"Oh wow," J.J. said. "So, that's still on the table, huh?"

"It kind of has to be," Rossi chimed in. "We don't want to run the risk of this guy getting away. That kid's the only thing keeping the Unsub here and out in the open. It might be the best thing to use Spencer as bait."

Derek  _really_  didn't like the sound of that. He turned away from his colleagues and stared hard at the images on the screen as they cycled from camera to camera.

"Has anyone talked to Spencer about this yet?" Emily asked with a frown.

"No, we're keeping it as a last resort," Hotch said. "If Garcia can get us a small enough list to work with so that we can bring some good suspects in, I don't think we'll have to utilize Spencer at all. But… time is not on our side."

"Wait a second," Derek said as he sat up, drawing the attention of the other agents. "Hotch! Go back to Camera 4, I think I saw something."

Hotch frowned as he leaned closer to the controls and circled back through the camera feeds. The five agents watched the image on the screen carefully, observing the courtyard at the back of Spencer's apartment. It appeared motionless. Emily opened her mouth to say something, but the comment died in her throat when they all saw a figure step out of a shady alcove. It was as if he had been a part of the shadow. The man was tall, probably around 6'3", and was dressed in a black hoodie and what looked to be black sweatpants. They could see nothing discerning about him. The hoodie covered his head and cast a shadow over his face, obscuring his facial features.

"Shit, is that… is that him?" Derek asked, hands gripping the chair in front of him, knuckles taut.

They all watched silently as the dark-clad figure stood on the street, looking around casually. He waited as a car drove by. And then he inched closer to the fence. They looked on as the man began fiddling with the wooden slats, and that was enough for them.

"It's him! It's that son of a bitch! Go!" Derek shouted as he kicked the back door open and jumped out of the van.

The five agents ran down the street, the sounds of their boots hitting the pavement and their even breaths the only sounds in the dark night. But, the sounds of their footsteps must have alerted the trespasser because they heard the boards in the fence clattering to the ground and as they rounded the corner, they saw the man in the dark clothes take off down the other side of the street.

"Shit, he's getting away!" Derek yelled.

"J.J. and Rossi, you take the back street!" Hotch barked. "Morgan, Prentiss, we'll approach head-on!"

Derek was already a few feet ahead of his colleagues as he pounded the pavement in pursuit of their suspect. He wasn't about to let this guy go. He saw a glimpse of the man as he crossed the street and turned a corner. Derek wasted no time in heading around the corner after the man.

"Morgan!" he heard Hotch calling after him, after he had lost sight of his subordinate.

But Derek couldn't be bothered with protocol. As he made his way around the corner, he cursed. He couldn't see the man anymore. It was like he had just disappeared. Derek kept on running, sure that the man had to still be there; he couldn't have just  _vanished_. Derek was halfway down the block when he heard the faint footsteps of Prentiss and Hotch on the street further behind him.

Suddenly, he heard the revving of an engine and bright lights were shining in his eyes. He came to a halt as he raised his hands to cover his eyes as he looked to see where the lights were coming from. He could see the dark outline of a sedan a few feet in front of him, idling in a commercial building's driveway. It took a split second for him to realize that the car had started moving. And it was moving fast.

Derek jumped out of the way, crying out as the car slightly clipped him on his right hip. He fell to the ground, hard, rolling out of the tires' path as the car skidded out of the driveway and barreled down the street. He forced himself to roll to a sitting position, ignoring the ache in his side and his hands where he had hit the hard blacktop, and tried to register as much information as he could. As the car drove off in the opposite direction of the approaching agents, Derek cursed. The car had no rear licenses plates. All he could tell was that it was a large black sedan. Most likely some type of foreign luxury vehicle.

He listened as the car drove away, the sound of its engine getting lower and lower.

"Dammit!" he yelled as he pounded his fist against the pavement.

His colleagues raced up to him, shouting and asking if he was ok.

"Did anyone get the plates?" he asked, as he tried to get to his feet.

He felt Hotch's arm supporting him and helping him up. He winced slightly as he applied pressure to his hip, but he already knew it was going to be nothing more than a bad bruise.

"No, sorry," J.J. said as she came running up to him. "We couldn't see anything from the front. We barely even saw the  _car_  before he was trying to mow you down."

"The lights were too bright to see anything. The guy took off like a bat out of hell," Emily said as she came up on his other side trying to offer her assistance.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Derek said as he shook off Hotch and Emily's help.

"All I could see is that it's probably a luxury car, but too dark to tell," Rossi said as he approached. "Looked like it might have been a Benz…maybe an Audi."

"Shit, that was probably our fucking Unsub, and he got away!" Derek growled out as he walked towards the middle of the street looking in both directions.

"Look, Derek, there's nothing we could've done about it. No one was expecting this," J.J said as she tried to calm him down.

"The  _Unsub_  planned for this," Derek snapped at her.

"I just alerted the officers in the surrounding area that a black vehicle just took off, doing what was probably 60 in a residential zone," Hotch informed them as he put his cellphone away. "Hopefully they'll be able to catch him."

"I highly doubt it," Derek huffed out.

The other agents looked at him curiously.

"Well, we've got to try," Emily said simply.

"For right now, Morgan, I want you to go get those injuries checked out," Hotch said as he gestured down to Derek's hand.

Derek glanced down at his hands. They were scratched up and bleeding lightly. There were pieces of gravel imbedded in his palms. He hadn't even felt the pain.

"I'm fine, Hotch." Derek said.

"Yeah, well, I'll believe it when I hear a doctor say that," the older man said.

"Come on everyone, let's get back to work and see if we can do anything with the new information we have," Hotch instructed.

As the agents started to make their way back down the dark and deserted street, Derek stood in the middle of the street staring in the opposite direction after the car that had disappeared mere minutes ago, a frown on his face.

_We were so close_ , he thought to himself.

* * *

A/N: Hmm, poor Spencer. Poor, confused Spencer. Or, should we say poor Morgan? What to do when a young pretty boy wants to put the moves on you? Gotta love the angst! Haha. Other than that, a lot of stuff happened, right? Mama's all tuckered out from so much writing. So I hope you guys liked all the plot development.

Until next time!


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole property of the CBS Corporation. This work of fiction has been created purely for entertainment purposes and I am profiting in no way.

A/N: Thanks for coming back! And sorry for the long delay! I've been flooding my beta-reader with chapters, so I needed to give her some time to get through it all. So thank you for being so patient and special thanks to her for putting up with me, haha. As always, I love to read your comments and answer your questions, so please continue to write me!

So, this is going to be another half-n-half chapter. Apparently, whenever I write a 'day' in this story, it ends up going over 50 pages D: So, here you'll get the morning (focused mostly on case-development), and in chapter 10 you'll get the afternoon/night. But the next update should come relatively quickly since I'm most of the way through chapter 10 as I am posting this.

I do want to let you all know that we're approaching that place in the story where we start to lead up to the end. I'm starting to think about and plan how many more chapters there will be. So, prepare yourselves! :'{

* * *

As the sun began to rise and peek through the loosely closed vertical blinds, its orange rays fell on the figure of a solitary man in an otherwise lightless room. The world outside the large penthouse windows reflected a beautiful cityscape, just starting to come to life in the early morning hours. But the man within the room could not be bothered with such beauty. He sat at his large desk, elbows poised on the marble tabletop, chin resting atop his interlaced fingers, lost in thought. He was thinking about what to do about the  _pests_. When one had pests, it was common to exterminate them. And that was exactly what those Federal agents were; PESTS.

He had not initially anticipated the presence of the FBI. He had gone so many years, cleaning up the filth he encountered, and had never had the unpleasant experience of dealing with law enforcement. But things were different now—he could admit at least that to himself. He had never felt the compulsion to linger—to interact with another human being—quite like this before. And he knew exactly what it was that had caused that difference. Spencer Reid.

It was all a matter of coincidence that he had even became aware of the boy. But this coincidence only solidified the man's belief that this must be fate. That he and Spencer were  _destined_. That day, four years ago, when he had agreed to a late night meeting with Demetri Santos—the scum of the earth—he had thought he would merely be discussing a number of Santos' outstanding financial obligations. Santos had thought he could distract the man from his intended goal with offers of fine cognac and imported cigars, but he had quickly learned that the man was impervious to such enticements. But, then Santos had asked the man if he wanted to see his 'secret stash,' promising a rare treat while flashing the man a toothy grin. The man, ever a procurer of fine oddities, was intrigued by this and had agreed.

But what he wasn't expecting to see was a gangly, teenaged youth, eyes wide in terror and tears streaming down his face as Santos forced the boy to perform on him. He had said his name was Spencer. He was only 15. The man saw red.

He had heard whispers of Santos' leanings, but had never had his suspicions confirmed until that very moment. Carefully, trying to hold back the monstrous rage that was starting to build inside of him, the man inquired of Santos if this was the first time he had done something like this. Laughing, obviously proud of his conquests, Santos had admitted that there had been too many to count. He told the man that most of the 'talent' had chosen to either work for him, or had taken a nice chunk of change for hush money. Santos had said it was well worth the price for such 'delicacies.'

That was all the man had needed to hear. He was on his feet and standing behind Santos, his fine leather belt swiftly removed from the loops of his tailored trousers and coiled securely around Santos' neck, before Santos could register what was happening. The man applied pressure, tightening the makeshift noose. As his victim choked and struggled for air, the man listened quietly, as if soothed by the familiar sounds. To him, they were the sounds of justice. As he felt Santos' struggles become more sporadic and jerky, the man knew that Santos was close to losing consciousness. Applying the pressure for a few seconds more, the man felt Santos' body slump and he released his hold around his victim's neck. He knew Santos would be out for at least a good five minutes. He had done this so many times it was almost like a science.

With a cold stare, the man reached over the slumped form and pressed the eject button on the laptop. Removing the silver disc sitting in the tray, he slipped it into his coat pocket, satisfied that no one would ever again see the boy's shame. He regretted that he didn't have his usual supplies with him. He wanted to give Demetri Santos the same treatment he gave all the other men who had been tried and deemed guilty. That was the part he liked the best. Watching them squirm, and beg, and finally admit their sins, all while the man applied just enough pressure to keep them on that teetering edge between consciousness and death. He liked being able to feel their pulse under his thumbs as he squeezed down. And then, when they had finally confessed, he would pass judgment, burning the mark of their transgressions into their skin.

But he had not come here today intending to pass judgment, and he had been unprepared. With no gloves he had been deprived of obtaining the feeling of contact he so desired. He wouldn't be reckless though. It was foolish to risk leaving any DNA. And without his signet ring, he couldn't leave behind his mark of judgment. So, this kill would be less…satisfying than usual. But, his mission was about doing what was right, not about obtaining pleasure. At least that's what he  _told_  himself. Lately, the kills had started to feel more and more exciting. But, the man was not willing to spend time thinking about what that could mean.

No, he had a job to do. Stepping behind Santos and grasping the slack belt in his hand once again, the man pulled the noose taut. There was no point in going through the ritual with him. Santos had proudly admitted that the boy on the tape wasn't his first. The man knew that if Santos lived, this boy—this 'Spencer'—would likely not be his last. Using the belt to tilt Santos' head back with one hand, the man used his free hand to slide his handkerchief from his suit pocket. Then, making sure the cloth was wrapped carefully around his right hand, he reached into an interior pocket of his long coat and retrieved his hunting knife. He always had that with him. A small grin broke out on his lips as his hand closed around the familiar-feeling hilt.

He could feel Santos slowly beginning to stir, and the anticipation of seeing his wide, fear-stricken eyes sent a jolt of pleasure down the man's spine. As full consciousness returned to Santos he took in a deep, air-starved, breath, jerking his body forward. But the man was anticipating this and pulled backward on the leather gripped in his hand, causing Santos' head to snap back and his eyes to roll upward to stare at the grinning man above him.

"Y-you!" Santos spluttered out, but the man cut him off.

"You've been a despicable example of a human being," the man said, voice cool as ice. "And I've passed judgment on you, deeming you unworthy."

Santos' eyes widened in shock, but before he could let out a sound of protest, he saw a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye. With one powerful arcing swing of his arm, the man brought the knife down between Santos' eyebrows, shoving the serrated blade through flesh and bone. Santos gurgled and his body jerked, but in mere seconds he had gone still.

Stepping back, fluidly sliding the unstained handkerchief from the hilt of the blade, the man looked down at his handiwork with pride. Shoving the handkerchief in his pocket, the man's fingers bumped into the smooth surface of the DVD. Stroking the disc in fondness, the man knew he would keep it. For some reason, it seemed important to him.

Drawing himself out of his musings and returning to the present, the man sighed at the fond memory. Remembering the satisfaction he felt at having  _saved_  Spencer (a boy he knew little more about other than his age and name) reminded him why his work was so important. The world  _needed_  people like him. The man had learned that goodness was rare in the world. He had learned that a concept such as truth was irrelevant as long as someone had enough influence, money, or charm to convince others to buy into their lies. His father had taught him that lesson quite brutally. He had taken away the one person the man had ever cared about, and he had never been made to pay for it.

But, while his father had taken so much from him, he had also  _given_  the man equally as much. A good family name, an inheritance, and social collateral. The man could easily associate with the upper echelons of society and was accepted, if only for his lineage. They saw him as one of their own; they trusted him. They had no qualms disclosing their dirtiest, darkest secrets to the man because they believed the rules of the world did not apply to them. They were exempt from guilt, or shame, or remorse. And they believed the man would similarly revel in their carefree lifestyles. But the man's father had killed the part of him that could truly appreciate any of the pleasures that came along with those privileges. The man was not like his counterparts. He had learned that at an early age.

When he was young, his father had sent him away under the guise of mental illness. But the man knew it was merely to shut him up. And the person who had returned was someone else entirely. The man resented his father, and all those like him. Those who wore one face on the outside, but were really wolves deep down inside. And killing helped to make sense of things. So, the man killed. But, to the man, there was nothing to be sorry about. He was doing a service to the world. He killed only those who deserved it (according to the man, of course). Those who only poisoned the world. Those who hurt others. And killing served the dual-purpose of helping to calm the ever-building rage inside of him.

So, on the day the man killed Demetri Santos—unplanned as it was—he had been exceedingly pleased with himself. He had discovered a cretin who had been operating below his radar and who would have slipped past him if he had not been betrayed by his own hubris. And the icing on the cake was that the man had  _proof_  that he had saved someone. He had the recording of Spencer. The boy on the tape had  _needed_  his help. Before then, he had never had the opportunity to see those he was helping—it had always felt a bit surreal, like he was only telling himself that he was killing for a just cause. But unlike the other kills, which could only soothe the man for so long before he was itching to punish someone else, killing Demetri Santos stayed with him. It lingered. And it was because of Spencer.

No kill after that one had ever felt as good. But the man kept killing, because he  _needed_  to. Waiting until the last minute, until he reached the boiling point, and then he would let himself indulge. He continued like this after Santos' death. He had pushed the boy out of his thoughts because he had no way of discovering who he was. But, late at night, when the man let his mind wander and reminisce on his many kills, his thoughts would also wander back to Spencer. In moments of pure desperation, he would watch the video. Not for pleasure. No, it was merely to see Spencer's face. The video would incense him, and he would imagine killing Santos all over again. He would fantasize that he had  _been_  there when Santos had filmed the video. The boy would beg him to save him and he would kill Santos—tearing him limb from limb—before he could touch the boy. The extreme pleasure the man experienced from dispatching Santos and saving Spencer often led the man to a mind-blowing climax.

And then, two years ago, as destiny dictated, he ran across Spencer again. Only this time, it was at one of the parties hosted by the group of night clubs he invested in. The investment was a hand-me-down from his father. They were yet another bad reminder of memories he'd sooner extinguish. But his financial advisors had assured him the clubs supported a healthy portion of his portfolio and that they essentially made money on their own, so he would be better off holding on to them. And in retrospect, the man had been so pleased that they had pushed so hard to convince him. Because, there was Spencer.

That night, two years, ago, he watched the boy from across the room. He had never seen the boy in person, but the recognition had shot through his body like a bolt of lightning. He was sure that it was him. Two years had passed, and Spencer was taller than before, and had lost a bit of the baby-faced quality, but everything else about him, down to the wide, honey-colored eyes, was the same. He watched as two older girls—one a brunette, the other a strawberry-blonde—walked the boy around the party. The boy seemed skittish as his eyes took in the goings-on around him. He appeared to be uncomfortable in his own skin, and often fidgeted with the clothes he was wearing.

The man had let his eyes rove across the boy's thin frame. The theme of the party was some kind of rural-kink. The girls were wearing tiny plaid shirts, unbuttoned and tied in the front to showcase their ample cleavage, flat stomachs, and pierced navels. Their outfits came complete with tattered daisy-duke denim cutoffs, straw hats, and pigtails. The boy, on the other hand, wore nothing but a pair of denim short coveralls and tan boots. His chest was bare under the loose-fitting fabric, leaving little to the imagination. Standing next to the girls, who gave off a more obvious sex appeal, the boy looked even younger and more vulnerable. But the man knew that this, in itself, would be appealing to many of the patrons.

The man had made his way across the room so he could get closer to the small group, while feigning to be listening to a conversation going on with some esteemed business partners. As he listened to the girls talking to Spencer, he learned that this was Spencer's first time at one of the parties. The girls were trying to soothe him and get him to relax, but the boy was admittedly nervous. To the man's pleasure, the two girls promised Spencer they wouldn't leave him alone for a single moment that night. They would protect him. Just like the man wanted to do.

So he had watched with curiosity as Spencer had gotten acclimated to the party scene. It had seemed as if the more hesitant Spencer appeared, the more patrons would approach him. The two girls had stayed true to their word, either rebuffing especially aggressive admirers or coyly redirecting the attention on to them, explaining, with a wink, that the boy still had his training wheels on.

And the man had continued to watch as the night progressed and the girls came and went, led off by amorous suitors. The man was familiar enough with the parties; he knew where the girls were going. But one of them made sure to stay close to the boy at all times, helping him navigate conversations with the guests, while redirecting wandering hands, and teaching him how to flirt. At one point the darker-haired girl removed a small vial of white powder from her pocket and offered it to Spencer, telling him that it would take the edge off and help the parties pass faster. The boy had become flustered and vehemently declined. She had patted his wavy hair and said "good boy," but told him that if he ever changed his mind he knew where he could find some. The man had been impressed by the boy that night, and had found him even more intriguing.

From then on, the man was sure to keep tabs on the boy. He quickly gathered as much information as he could on Spencer's background from the managers of the club. They were quick to give him anything he needed. Who were they to turn down someone who could have an impact on their paychecks? So they told him when Spencer started working, what he did at the club (and what he wouldn't do), what customers he would see, and how much he made. They told him where the boy lived, and even handed over his cellphone number. When the man did a bit more digging (through the use of a particularly skilled private investigator), he learned of Spencer's tragic history. Of his father that abandoned him and his mother who had been recently institutionalized. He learned that Spencer had even been a  _child prodigy_.

Spencer was different from all the scum the man was used to dealing with. The man had believed that there was no one good, no one innocent, in the world. But, then there was Spencer. He didn't' have some seedy background. He never went home with his clients, and didn't seem interested in whoring himself out on the side. He kept his head down, and stayed out of trouble. From what the man could see, Spencer wasn't using people or trying to manipulate others. He gave the man hope for the rest of society. So, the man liked to watch him every now and then. Whenever Spencer was at a party, or when he was running drinks back and forth from the bar, the man would watch. Spencer was like his light in the darkness. And the man was content with that. Watching from afar, and just appreciating Spencer.

But then one night a few weeks ago, while at a charity gala, he had had the unpleasant experience of being wrangled into a conversation with Victor LaRoux. LaRoux knew him from the club. He knew the circles the man ran in, and for some reason, LaRoux, lips loosened by the copious amounts of liquor he had been consuming that night, deemed the man to be a confidant to whom he could divulge his secrets. LaRoux had started to babble about a boy from the club who he just couldn't stop thinking about. About how he wanted to just take the boy away from that life and make the boy his. The more he talked, the more LaRoux's ramblings shifted from wanting to be the boy's 'hero' to the depraved things he wanted to do to the boy. LaRoux didn't know the boy's name, but as he went on and on, the man quickly caught on that the boy of LaRoux's dreams was  _Spencer_. And something snapped inside of the man.

Who was LaRoux to lay a claim to Spencer?  _The man_  was the one who had saved Spencer from Demetri Santos, who had made sure no one had ever seen him in such a compromising position, and who had, with his influence, guaranteed that the boy could continue to work in the private rooms at  _Mon Petit Chien_. LaRoux was nothing but a degenerate who merely wanted the boy for his body. The man, on the other hand, knew about who Spencer was as a person. It wasn't mere lust. The man wanted Spencer in his  _entirety_. He wanted the boy: mind, body and soul. He would have it no other way. And the man did not like competition. So LaRoux had had to go.

That had been the first time the man had killed out of single-minded desire, and not compulsion. Sure, LaRoux did ultimately fit his criteria. The man had tamped down the rage that had instantly welled up within him while he talked to LaRoux at the party until he could enlist his trusted investigator to find out about LaRoux's life. It wasn't hard to imagine, after the things he had said about Spencer, that LaRoux had a weakness for young boys. Days later, the investigator had dropped a thick file on to the man's desk, detailing how LaRoux had propositioned two boys at the high school he oversaw and was currently in the process of drawing up a financial agreement with the boys' families to make the accusations 'go away.' So while knowing that LaRoux was just like all the other cretin the man had disposed of had made it easier to convince himself that he needed to die, the man knew that he would have killed LaRoux in any case. LaRoux had made an unforgiveable transgression in saying he had wanted to take Spencer away. The man could not overlook that. Spencer belonged to  _him_.

And although he could not quite put a label on them, the man had begun to experience these types of feelings more and more lately. When he had watched Spencer yesterday with Emily and Jennifer, the two female agents, he had been surprised to see the boy smiling. He wasn't accustomed to seeing Spencer outside of the club with  _anyone_ , and he had definitely not seen Spencer smile on very many occasions. The man had felt a sharp pang of displeasure. He wondered if this is what people called jealousy… He wanted Spencer to look at no one but him. He couldn't fathom the idea of the boy relying on others. He needed Spencer to  _need_ only him…

But what really had the man's ire raising, and had gained his full attention as of last night, was the way Spencer seemed to  _fawn_  over that Agent Morgan. The man had thought, from the first time he saw the two together, that the dark man's eyes  _lingered_  on his boy more than they should have. Spencer was  _his_. And the man would not tolerate another looking at what was his with such eyes. But, then last night, as the agent escorted Spencer home from work, the man had noticed something different as he observed the pair through his binoculars. The  _boy_  had started to look at the agent with 'gaga' eyes, for lack of a better word. For the first time ever, Spencer didn't have those dull, disinterested-looking eyes. He didn't have his head down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone. Instead, he was staring at Derek Morgan, eyes bright and a small smile on his full lips. Looking at him as if the world revolved around him. And in that moment, the man wanted the agent dead, and he wanted to punish Spencer. Badly.

Clenching his hands into fists, the man leaned away from his desk and sat back in his chair. He had really wanted to run over the tall, brawny man last night. He really wished he had taken the time to back up over the fallen man. But he knew that if he had, it would have slowed him down too much and the other agents, who were close on his tail, would have been able to apprehend him. While Derek Morgan would have been taken care of, the man knew that being arrested for killing a federal agent would mean he would never have the opportunity to be with Spencer. And he just couldn't have that. But, Derek Morgan still had to go. He was the pest of utmost priority. The man imagined Agent Morgan would be the second time he killed out of desire. But he was definitely looking forward to it. He couldn't be sure exactly what had developed between Spencer and the agent, but whatever it was, the man intended to nip it in the bud. And quickly.

He knew the team of federal agents had no idea who he was, and, if he had anything to say about it, they never would. Soon, the trail would go cold, and they would have to abandon the case. And then, once the agents were taken care of, Spencer would be his. Smiling softy at the thought, the man stood to his feet and walked toward his window, where the sky was quickly lightening as the sun rose higher. Pulling the blinds so that the light could flood the expansive, tastefully-appointed office, the man pondered over his plans.

He knew that he could give Spencer a better life. He had already started construction on Spencer's new room. He would give him all the things he could ever need. He knew that, at first, Spencer would be reluctant—he was learning that from the boy's tone in their most recent conversation. But the man wouldn't take it personally. It wasn't the boy's fault that he didn't know any better. The man knew that Spencer would have trouble trusting him because everyone before the man had only wanted to use and abuse the boy. The man was different. Spencer just didn't know that yet.

There was no way the youth would understand that the man truly loved him and all he wanted to do was protect him. At least he wouldn't know at  _first_. So the man had made sure to build the room in the basement, reinforced with sound-proof walls. And he had had the bed in Spencer's room custom-designed and equipped with restraints. They were of the finest quality leather—he would never risk bruising Spencer's beautiful, pale skin. He would keep Spencer there until he fully understood what the man was doing for him—until he was properly trained. And the man knew that once Spencer had learned that he was safe—once he could appreciate that the man was the only one in this world who had his best interests in mind—Spencer would accept him. Then they could truly begin their lives together.

Smiling in delight at the thought, the man pressed his hands against the cool glass and looked out over the city, imagining what the boy was doing at the current moment. In a few days, he wouldn't have to  _imagine._ Soon, Spencer would be waking up next to him.

_Just wait, my beautiful boy. Just you wait_.

* * *

A few miles across the city, Derek winced slightly as he stared at his palm and flexed his hand. He was sitting in the intake area of the emergency room, impatiently waiting for the doctor to return with his discharge papers. He had been there for the better part of the night, after Hotch had all but shut the van door in his face once the team had returned to the surveillance unit following their chase with the Unsub. His colleagues had looked at him sympathetically, but there was little they could do for him once Hotch had made up his mind. So, he had had to make his way to the ER for what he was convinced were little more than scratches.

In actuality, his hands were pretty badly scraped up but hadn't needed more than antiseptic after the nurses had given them a good washing and picked out all the bits of gravel and dirt. They would heal on their own and Derek was thankful he wouldn't have to wrap his hands in bulky bandages. That would be more than just a little inconvenient for having to quickly pull his gun. He  _had_  needed a bandage on his side, however. In addition to a bruise that probably looked nastier than it really felt, he had had a few deep gashes that had bled quite profusely. But no stitches were necessary. Another godsend, in Derek's opinion.

The doctor had looked at him seriously and told him he had been lucky that the car hadn't hit him directly. If it had, he probably would have suffered, at the least, a shattered hip or pelvis. The fact that he had jumped when he did and the car had only clipped him had likely saved him from more extensive damage.

_Lucky_ , Derek thought with a scowl.

He didn't like the idea of 'lucky.' 'Lucky' meant that the Unsub really could've killed him if he had wanted to. It meant that the only thing that had saved his ass had been the luck of the odds. It didn't matter how fast, strong, or smart Derek was. It meant that, next time, anything could happen. And Derek didn't like the idea of leaving things up to chance. He also knew that if the injury had been more severe he would have been down for the count on this case. He wouldn't be able to be there for Spencer and he was unwilling to leave the kid to the mercy of this Unsub.

The team had been keeping him updated during the hours he had been in the ER. The rest of the stakeout had ended uneventfully. The mysterious man had not returned, but they had expected as much. The description of the car had been made available to all officers on patrol in a ten-mile radius, but no one had come across it. And Garcia had done a cursory search for cars matching the description, but with nothing more than 'black' and 'luxury vehicle' to go off of, she had come back with a list of thousands of owners. And that would only be helpful if the car was even  _registered_  in the state of Nevada. They hadn't seen any license plates. The car could have been from any state. But Garcia had promised to cross-check the list with the registered cars of the individuals on the master list from the club that she was currently parsing through. She would let them know as soon as anything popped up.

Sighing as he closed his eyes and leaned back, wincing slightly at the twinge in his side, Derek let his mind wander to the boy who had become the focal point of his thoughts lately. He hadn't had much time to linger on Spencer's disturbing behavior once he had left the boy in his apartment. He had quickly switched into business-mode and had purposefully pushed the boy out of his mind. And with the events that had transpired afterwards, he was glad that he had been able to do so. He couldn't let the boy distract him from his work. The more Spencer filled his mind, the more it meant Derek wouldn't be on his best game.

But, right now, Derek was useless. He couldn't assist the team on the case because he was stuck in a hospital waiting room, and with nothing to put his mind to, all he could  _think_  about was Spencer.

_Was he really serious about what he said… or was it all some kind of twisted joke_? Derek wondered to himself.

He hadn't known Spencer for all that long, but that just didn't seem to be the kid's sense of humor. But Derek couldn't really explain it any other way. The Spencer who had seductively offered himself up to him in that sultry and teasing manner was not the same reticent boy he had been spending his days with. In actuality, he seemed more like the Spencer he had  _dreamed_  about. Just thinking of that dream, mixed with having seen the real Spencer in action, sent a jolt of heat through Derek's body.

_Oh, God_ , Derek thought, chastising himself, as he ran a hand wearily over his face.

He knew that he was quickly becoming more than a little smitten with Spencer Reid. Whenever his mind had the chance to wander it  _often_  wandered to the boy. He was at least glad that he could honestly say that the majority of these thoughts were not lewd in nature. No. Often when he thought of Spencer he would think about how cute the boy was when he would frown or pout, and he would get that little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Or the way that Spencer's unruly hair curled against his forehead. Or how he liked the timbre of Spencer's voice and the way that his words quickened, almost to the point where Derek couldn't keep up with him, when he was angry, excited, or otherwise worked up. Or how he really liked the fact that, while Spencer tried to appear tough and indifferent on the surface, he could tell that right underneath this fragile shield was a sensitive and caring individual. Spencer was smart, funny, and endearing. There was just so much that was fascinating about the boy.

And, ok, yes, sometimes late at night (or, increasingly more often, in the middle of the day when Spencer was decked out in his work-attire), Derek's mind would wander to less wholesome thoughts. Spencer was captivating, for lack of a better word. And he didn't even know it. But that's probably what made him even more alluring.

Derek had never intended to let himself view Spencer in that way, but he just couldn't help it. He told himself to just chalk it up to the nature of this case. After spending numerous hours in and around strip clubs and their employees, it made sense that his mind would be inundated with thoughts of sex. It was only natural. He was a red-blooded man. There was only so much he could be expected to ignore. And after seeing Spencer in all those outfits, which were intended to get one's blood pumping,  _of course_  the images would linger and resurface when he was alone with his thoughts… But that didn't explain why he still found himself thinking like this after seeing a sleepy-eyed, or freshly-showered, or pajama-wearing Spencer, now did it?

Opening his eyes and sitting forward, Derek wondered what he would  _do_  about this situation. What  _could_  he do? Was it realistic to try to see if there was actually something 'there' between him and the boy? Derek could count hundreds of reasons why that was the worst possible idea. At the top of the list were the lack of professionalism, Spencer's age and how actually having a relationship with so much distance was probably just not feasible. And that's what Derek would want—a relationship. He knew that without even having to really think about it. There was no way he was going to be some one-night stand that Spencer would have to just write off as yet another person who had abandoned him. He wanted to know so much more about Spencer, share in his ups and downs, and, ultimately, he wanted to be Spencer's protector. He wanted to take him away from all the pain, fear, and disappointment he had had to suffer up to this point.

But he also knew that it wasn't realistic to think he could  _give_  Spencer any of that. Once this case was over, that would be IT. It was  _supposed_  to be it. They did this job knowing that they were supposed to go where they were needed, solve the case as quickly as possible and allow everyone to go back to normal. If Derek were to start something with Spencer could anything really… 'go back to normal?'

Suddenly, the sound of someone clearing their throat tore Derek from his musings. Jumping slightly, he looked up to the petite doctor standing in front of him. He hadn't even heard her approach.

"I take it your thoughts are somewhere else," the woman said with a small smile as she opened the chart in her hands.

Derek could only grimace, flushing in embarrassment at having been caught with his guard down.

"So, I won't keep you here any longer than I need to, Agent Morgan," she said after the man remained silent.

"I looked at your x-rays one more time to make sure there were no hairline fractures and I'm happy to say you're absolutely fine. Again: you were very lucky. I wrote you a prescription for some pain killers. I would also write a prescription for 'bed-rest' if I believed you'd actually follow my instructions," she said with a slight frown.

Derek gave her a small smile and could only shrug.

She rolled her eyes but gave him an equally amused smile.

"But I know how badly you're itching to get back out in the field. You're definitely going to feel it running around on a bruised hip like that, but I can't stop you. I would also love it if you at least took the day off and got some sleep since it's almost…" she trailed off as she glanced down at her watch, "6 am and you've been here all night."

"I was able to get a little shut eye in between the poking and prodding," he said, trying to assuage her concern.

"Yeah, right," she said rolling her eyes again.

Derek really had drifted off for about an hour or so in between exams, which he knew probably wasn't the ideal amount of sleep for him, but he couldn't wait to get back out and pound the pavement to catch the asshole who had almost run him down. Besides, he'd try to catch up on as much sleep as he could before he had to be back at the precinct later that morning.

The doctor then became more somber.

"Agent Morgan, I know your job is very serious and I appreciate how much you want to be back out there so you can bring the bad guys to justice. But you have to remember to take care of yourself so you're in the best shape to  _do_  so. So, just take it easy, ok? If someone is crazy enough to purposefully try to mow you down, I don't want to see what he'll try next time he has the chance," she told him.

Derek nodded, equally somber.

"I hear you, Doc. But, believe me, this guy isn't going to get the chance to try again," he said with determination.

She smiled at him as she handed the chart over.

"Good to hear. Now just sign here and I'll clear you."

Derek grabbed the pen from her hand and quickly signed in all the indicated fields. When he handed the pen back to the doctor, she placed a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"Now get back out there and catch that son of a bitch," she said with a wink.

* * *

When Derek walked into the precinct it was just past 9am and the rest of the team was already settled around the conference table.

J.J. and Emily gave him concerned looks and he raised his hands to show them he was fine.

"See,  _Dad_ ," Derek said, casting a smug look in Hotch's direction, "they were just scratches. Definitely didn't need to go to the ER."

Hotch rolled his eyes and let out a huff at Derek's jibe.

"And how's your hip, Morgan? Do you think I didn't see how you were limping when you walked in here?" Hotch asked.

Derek's grin fell slightly.

"I'm fine, Hotch," he said. "Really."

"Hmm," was the only response Hotch gave as he flipped open the case file in front of him.

"Take a seat so we can get started. We have the overnight officers staying with Spencer until Prentiss and J.J. are free to head back over there. I wanted everyone together to get the update from Garcia," he said as he turned to the conference phone.

Pressing the speed-dial button to engage the call, Hotch waited for Garcia to pick up and Derek settled into a seat at the table.

"How's chocolate thunder?" was the first thing out of the tech-analyst's mouth once she answered the phone.

"Don't worry, sweetness. Everything's fine," Derek said reassuringly.

"J.J.?" Garcia asked, ignoring Derek's placating tone.

J.J. laughed as she gave Derek a sympathetic look.

"He seems fine to me, Garcia. His hands are a bit scratched up and he's been limping a bit so I'm guessing he's probably got a wicked bruise, but I don't think he's out of commission just yet," she said.

Derek shot a feigned look of betrayal at the blond.

"Come on, guys, it was nothing. Lay off it. I'm good to go," Derek said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, I'll believe that for now. But you all make sure he takes it easy, ok?" Garcia asked.

"We will, Garcia," Rossi chimed in with a chuckle. "Now let us know what you've been able to find."

"Ok, so going the 'investor' route gave me a much smaller list to work with. I was still running the master list, and there were about 50 names that overlapped. First, I was able to weed out all the women. There were surprisingly a lot more of them than I would've imagined. So it helped cut down about 20% of the list. And I was also able to cut out the people who were purely financial investors, and don't subscribe as members. I was surprised to see that there were actually people like that. Although the majority of these upstanding citizens definitely take part in the perks their investment provides," she said, distaste evident in her voice.

"So, comparing that with what we know about how our guy likes to kill, I ran these guys' backgrounds against who was in our three kill-states around the time the murders took place. Looking at credit card statements, and plane or train records, there were  _some_  people who were in those states during the time of the murders but not a single person who was there for  _all_  of them. However, it's hard to really narrow the list definitively using this method. We already know our guy doesn't like leaving paper trails," she said with a disgruntled sigh.

"If he doesn't use cards then it would actually be kind of tough to pinpoint when someone was physically present in any of these states. These locations are so close there's no real reason the Unsub has to  _fly_. It's a max of a five hour drive between all the locations so he could definitely make the trip to and from completely using cash and a car. And because the states are so close, there's no way to even pinpoint where he  _lives_. He could be moving around every couple of years, or he could be operating from one spot and just be hitting the good ole' U.S. Interstate," she said, her voice clearly exhibiting her frustration.

"Well, let's see how we can narrow this down. We've been trying to figure out who this guy is by focusing on filling in blanks and gaps, but what conclusions can we make about the Unsub based on what we have so far?" Rossi asked.

"We need to start from the beginning. Garcia, run back over the trajectory of the killings for us again," Hotch asked.

"Ok, so he started in San Diego, and killed twice. Then he killed once in Phoenix. We thought he started killing in Vegas just within the last two years, but in actuality, if this Demetri Santos thing is related, then the first time he killed in Vegas was four years ago. That would've been his  _fourth_  kill. Then he goes back and forth between Vegas and California, killing three times in and around L.A and twice in Vegas, including the most recent killing of Victor LaRoux," Garcia listed off.

"Hmm…so, I think the first thing this tells us is that San Diego is important. The Unsub has some kind of connection to that place. Whatever his trigger was, it took place there," Emily said.

"So, Garcia, describe the first kill to us again?" Hotch asked.

"The first kill was that divorce attorney who helped his clients give their financially-dependent wives the shaft by stacking the divorce terms against them and taking kickbacks under the table. His name was Anthony George," she said.

"Oh… I remember reviewing the details of that case," J.J. said as she reached over to retrieve a notebook she had on the desk.

"They found him in his car on a deserted level of a hotel's parking garage. The M.E. report said that the cause of death for this first victim was actually a broken neck because the Unsub exerted so much force while strangling that he snapped the victim's vertebrae. Even though the man was already dead, the Unsub stabbed him in the head with a serrated hunting knife, multiple times. There were no signs of a struggle in the car, so the cops thought that whoever had killed him had been invited in. They could find no DNA evidence though and nothing to give any impression of who may have been in the car with him." J.J summarized from her notes.

"Ok, so, first kill. What does that tell us?" Hotch asked.

"So, first off, the guy was sloppy," Derek offered. "It was his first kill, and that says that, one, he probably didn't go out with the intention to kill that night, and, two, he hadn't yet perfected his signature. Whatever happened to cause the Unsub to kill this man, he felt strongly about it, as evidenced by the extreme overkill. Needless to say, stabbing a man multiple times after having already broken his neck with your bare hands, means this guy's got a lot of rage. Not to mention that he has brute strength working on his side."

"Ok, so Garcia, I want you to dig more into who was attending that conference. While finding out more about the first victim's background may be helpful, if this was an unplanned killing this victim may have just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. If there was anyone on our list of members and investors who was also attending that conference, I want to know about it," Hotch told the tech analyst.

"Will do, sir," Garcia said as the sound of quick typing came from her end of the phone.

"So what else do we know?" Hotch asked, looking around the room at his subordinates.

"Since the Unsub has been sticking around Vegas to…taunt Spencer, for lack of a better word," J.J. said with a grimace, "he either lives here or has some kind of temporary residence. I don't think he'd make a hotel his base of operations."

"That's a good point," Hotch agreed. "We might not be able to tell where the Unsub lives based on where he's killed, but the fact that he's staying in town to pursue Spencer, tells us that he has the means to do so. At the very least he works here, but it's also likely that he lives in or around Las Vegas. So, Garcia, I'd narrow the list to individuals who currently live in or around Vegas but may have been originally from California."

"Ok, sir, I'll add that to the parameters. I may have to physically backtrack through records since someone could've been born out of state but raised in California. But for right now I have about 30 of the individuals on this list who has some early connection to California and is currently living or working in Nevada," Garcia responded.

"That's a good number to work with, Garcia," Hotch said.

"Let's try to narrow this down more. What can we say about the Unsub's age, mental state, lifestyle," he asked the team.

"Well… I thought it was weird when we were talking to him on the phone yesterday," J.J. began brows furrowed in thought, "but aside from just sounding delusional, the guy… just sounded  _petulant_."

Emily nodded.

"I would have to agree," she said.

The men in the room looked on in interest. Other than Spencer, J.J. and Emily had been the only ones to actually hear the Unsub speak.

"He just seemed like the kind of person who would throw a tantrum at any minute. He got really angry when we didn't respond to his questions almost immediately," Emily continued.

"So… we may be dealing with someone who lacks emotional maturity," Hotch said. "But that doesn't necessarily tell us his physical maturity."

"Garcia, what is the age range of the shortened list you were able to put together?" he asked.

They listened for a few brief seconds as the sound of rapid clicking filled the room.

"The ages range from 24 to 52, sir," she said after having quickly compiled the data.

"Well, the guy I was running after last night didn't look like no 52 to me," Derek said, glowering as he thought back to his run-in with the Unsub.

"Hey, just because a guy is up there in years doesn't mean he can't outrun  _you_ , Morgan," Rossi said, feigning offense.

Derek cracked a grin and rolled his eyes at the older agent.

"Well, I'd have to agree with chocolate thunder on this one, sir," Garcia interjected. "The 52-year-old on the list, a Mr. Thomas Richardson, appears to be pushing 300lbs and from what I can tell from his frequent visits to the doctor, he has a bum leg."

"Well, you can definitely scratch that guy off the list," Emily said. "The guy we chased last night was definitely no stranger to fitness."

"What's the deal with that 24-year-old, Garcia?" Rossi asked. "I'm a bit surprised that someone that young would be investing in strip clubs."

"Hmm, that would be Xavier Marlow, of Los Angeles, California, and you're right sir, young Xavier didn't choose this investment himself. It seems he inherited it along with a number of other stocks, bonds and investments when his grandfather, Thaddeus Marlow, passed away three years ago. I guess inheriting millions is a pretty nice graduation present. And… it would appear Xavier actually hasn't been in the country for the past three weeks," Garcia said with surprise. "Being rich has its perks. The last purchase he made was at the Four Seasons in Monte Carlo."

"Well, his lavishness and indifference to leaving a paper trail already shows us he doesn't fit the profile. And there's no way he could have killed Victor LaRoux if he's been out of the country the past three weeks. We can cut him from our list as well…" Hotch said with a sigh.

"What else stands out to you all?" Hotch asked, trying to push his team to expand their thought-processes.

"From the way the Unsub has been talking… saying things like 'destined,' and that he believes he has some kind of relationship with Spencer, it sounds like he thinks he  _knows_ Spencer. That's not something someone usually develops over the course of just a week," J.J. said, seeming lost in thought as she remembered back to the conversation she listened in on yesterday.

"Hmm… so that might be important. The Unsub most likely had an opportunity to meet Spencer, somehow, before he killed Victor LaRoux," Rossi said, running with J.J's postulations.

"So, we're not thinking it's just a client from the club?" Garcia piped in.

"No, baby girl, I really think this is something completely different," Derek said with a dark look on his face.

"I agree. The fixation on Spencer is not just a whimsical infatuation. This is much more deep-seated. The Unsub had to plan to find out all this information about Spencer. And this possessiveness would have needed time to build. Did the Unsub say anything that could give us an idea of what has been motivating his obsession?" Hotch asked.

"Well, he talked about the fact that he and Spencer belonged together, and how he wants to protect him. And while the guy definitely seemed to talk about Spencer in ownership terms, it didn't seem as if he thought Spencer was beneath him… but more like Spencer needed to be…'re-educated.' I kind of got the impression that he wanted to be with Spencer because he thought he had something in common with him," Emily said.

"So, it would be a good idea to look into how any of the suspects' pasts may mirror Spencer's in some way. And I think it's very likely he's closer to Spencer's age than further," Hotch said.

"Garcia, let's tentatively narrow the list to any males between 25 and 35," he instructed.

"Sure thing, boss man," she said as her fingers flew over the keys.

"That leaves us with 17 names," she said.

"Anyone with a criminal record?" Derek asked, hopefully.

Garcia did a quick search and let out a defeated sigh.

"Nothing. Zilch. Nada," she huffed. "The most we've got is lots of speeding tickets for expensive sports cars. But these guys have all pretty much stayed under the radar. From a cursory search there really isn't any dirt on any of them."

"Garcia, I want you to work with this list of names and  _dig_. Gather all the information you can find on those men. I want to know everything from what hospital they were born in, to where they went to school, to where they had dinner last night. Everything. And find anything that has ever been printed on them," Hotch instructed.

"Once you put that list together, I want you to get the best pictures of them possible. I know none of them have criminal records, but I want something that we can use to build a photo array to show Spencer. It's likely he's come across this man before and just doesn't know it," he continued.

"Can do, will do, and so happy to do, sir!" she said as she quickly wrote down all his instructions.

"That's it for now, Garcia. Thanks for your help," Hotch said as he leaned closer to the speaker.

"Always a pleasure, sir. Garcia-out," she announced as she disconnected the call.

Hotch glanced at his wristwatch. Almost an hour had passed.

"Ok, everyone, I think we made really good progress. A list of 17 names is far easier to work with than hundreds. We're likely very close to catching this guy, so I want all of you on your toes," he said as he looked meaningfully at each of his team.

"The closer we get to cornering him, the more he is going to feel threatened and is likely to act out, as we saw first hand last night. He's usually someone who likes to operate in the shadows, and his attempt to run Morgan down was out of character for him. It means he's losing control. This might mean he's more likely to slip up, but it also may mean he'll forego acting from the background and may be more willing to confront us," Hotch warned.

He then glanced at Emily and J.J.

"I'm going to send you two back over to Spencer's. I don't want to give him any reason to be more scared than he has to, but I want you two to avoid leaving the apartment if you can today. You can take him to work in the afternoon, but other than that try to keep him distracted. I don't want to give the Unsub any opportunities to grab him," Hotch said seriously.

J.J. and Emily nodded solemnly. Everyone knew that the Unsub's likely end-goal was probably to abduct the boy. His obsession and possessiveness wouldn't allow him to let Spencer exist outside of his purview for very much longer. They just weren't sure what the man intended to do with Spencer if he ever got his hands on him. But no one was willing to give the man that chance.

"Rossi, I got a message from the Medical Examiner this morning, saying she wants someone to head down there and take another look at the body. She was finally able to get all the reports from the previous kills and may have discovered a useful link," Hotch said as he turned to the older profiler.

Rossi nodded as he stood to his feet.

Derek furrowed his brow. He hadn't been given an assignment. As his colleagues started to gather their things, Derek hissed slightly as he got to his feet as well, quickly being reminded of his aching side.

"Hotch," Derek began as he looked at his superior.

"Morgan, I want you to stay at the station this morning and go through the remaining case files with me," Hotch instructed.

Derek flinched. He knew Hotch was keeping him back because he thought he was injured. But this was ridiculous. Derek wasn't the type to sit around thumbing through files. He belonged in the field.

"Are you kidding me, Hotch?" Derek asked, in disbelief.

The senior agent glanced at him, and the rest of the team paused to observe them.

"Part of profiling requires us to study past cases. We build our profile based on what the Unusb's prior actions tell us about what motivates him to offend. If you for some reason think that that isn't an important function, then we have much bigger problems," Hotch said with a shrug.

"Come on. It's not like I don't know  _that_. But, you're really keeping me here because you think I'm not fit for the field," Derek complained.

"No, I'm keeping you here because I value your opinion and insight, and believe that we can make a lot of leeway with our combined effort," Hotch said simply.

Derek sighed in resignation. There wasn't much way to argue with that.

As the rest of the team began to file out the door, Emily placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"We all had to pay our dues on this case, Morgan. Do you think J.J. and I liked spending yesterday wading through a bunch of really convoluted case files? Be glad we took care of most of the California portion of it for you," she said pointedly.

He shot her an annoyed look, but he knew she was right.

"Prentiss," he said, stopping her in her tracks.

Emily glanced back at him with a curious look.

"Tell the kid I say hey?"

She nodded at him and smiled.

"Sure thing, Morgan."

* * *

When the two agents arrived at Spencer's apartment, they were actually looking forward to spending the day with the young man. Emily knocked on the door and they waited patiently for it to be answered. They listened as the on-duty officer unlocked the door and they greeted him as he let them in.

As they walked into the living room they saw Spencer smiling at them from the couch. It appeared that he was playing chess. Against himself.

"Is that what you usually do?" Emily asked, as she gestured to the chessboard, sounding impressed.

Spencer laughed.

"Not if I can help it. But Officer Matthews couldn't be convinced to play," Spencer said as he smiled good-naturedly at the stoic officer.

"I told Mr. Reid I'm not much for these mind games," the officer said with a shrug.

J.J. laughed.

"To be honest, I wouldn't want to play him either. I think he'd beat us all," she said with a smile.

"What've you got there?" Spencer asked as he got to his feet and walked around Emily and J.J. He was pointing at the two bags they were carrying.

"Ever the observant little genius," Emily said good-naturedly. "Of course we came bearing breakfast again for our favorite charge."

Spencer perked up.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yup. But today we decided to be a bit healthier than the sugary abominations we brought over yesterday. So we have egg whites and cheese on multi-grain English muffins. We saw how empty your cupboards were yesterday and figured you didn't make a habit of eating a good breakfast," J.J. said, giving him a knowing look.

Spencer blushed.

"Well… I might have had two of the leftover pastries for breakfast this morning," he admitted sheepishly.

Emily rolled her eyes but couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ok, you take this stuff into the kitchen while we debrief Officer Matthews here," she said as she handed the bags to the eager boy. Nodding, Spencer took the bags from her but before walking away he glanced inside.

"Yes, coffee!" he said happily before he made his way into the kitchen.

The two women exchanged a look and couldn't help but chuckle as they listened to the boy busying himself in the kitchen.

"Spencer, that extra coffee's for Officer Matthews, so don't get carried away," Emily informed him.

"I was thinking it was a lucky bonus," Spencer said as he walked into the living room carrying the large cup of coffee. He handed it over to the officer before returning to his task in the kitchen.

"Thanks," the officer said as he raised the cup and smiled at the two women.

"Our pleasure. We appreciate you standing in for us this morning. We know it was a lot asking you to extend your shift," J.J. said.

"Absolutely no problem," he said.

"Anything to update or report since our teams switched?" Emily asked.

"Everything was quiet on my end. But I'm more concerned about whether you two ladies are gonna be alright. What with what went down with your team last night and everything?" the officer asked as he appraised the two agents.

J.J. and Emily cringed at the officer's words. They hadn't intended to let Spencer know about the trouble they had experienced with the Unsub.

"We'll be fine, officer," J.J. said as she patted the holstered glock at her side, and gave the man a meaningful look.

"Wait, what happened last night?" Spencer asked from the kitchen.

The officer shot an apologetic look at the two agents.

"Well… I better be heading out. Enjoy your day, Mr. Reid," the officer called as he quickly made his way towards the door.

Emily and J.J. could only look on as the man made a hasty retreat and the door softly clicked shut behind him.

"Hey," Spencer said, as he walked out of the kitchen, "what was he talking about? Did something happen last night?"

The two women exchanged a look, wondering what they should say.

"Look, Spencer," J.J. said, speaking up first, "we didn't really want to cause you any alarm. So that's why we didn't tell you. But… we sort of had a run-in with the Unsub last night."

Spencer's eyes widened in shock. The Unsub had been there last night, and no one had told him?

"I… I don't understand. Why wouldn't you tell me that?" he asked, his voice slightly laced with betrayal.

"Our supervisor made an executive decision. He didn't think it was worth it to get you all riled up when we were certain the Unsub wouldn't return. And with all the law enforcement officers on the street last night, there was no way you would be in any danger," Emily explained.

"So, did you end up seeing what he looked like? What happened?" Spencer asked.

"To be honest, no one really got a good look at him. Morgan got the closest, but then with him getting hit by the car-" Emily began but then gasped when she realized her slip.

Spencer stared at her with horrified eyes.

"Der- A-Agent Morgan got hit by a car!?" he asked, voice strained.

Spencer felt as if his heart was in his throat.

J.J. quickly swooped in to amend the situation.

"Spencer, Spencer, relax," she soothed. "Agent Morgan's fine. He wasn't really 'hit' by the car, just kind of grazed. He got a little scuffed up but he was back on his feet in a matter of seconds. And our boss forced him to go to the hospital, even though Morgan complained the whole way. The doctor gave him a clean bill of health and he was back in the briefing room with us this morning. So, believe me. He's  _totally_  fine. You don't have to worry at all."

Emily quickly nodded in support of J.J.'s assertions.

Spencer tried to process J.J.'s words and tell himself to calm down. He didn't think they would lie to him about this. So he knew that Derek was probably fine, just like they said. But the idea of Derek being hurt at all, and especially because of  _him_ , made him sick with worry.

"You're sure? Absolutely sure?" Spencer asked, locking eyes with the two agents.

"Absolutely, Spencer. Trust us," J.J. said.

Spencer let out a sigh, feeling himself relax a bit.

"Ok… but you have to tell me what happened," he said, leaving no room for argument.

"The only one who really knows is Morgan. We got separated for a few minutes and were only able to see the car driving away and Morgan on the ground. But, before that, we saw someone in dark clothes slinking around the back courtyard, so we gave chase. The man had a head start and although Morgan was able to keep up, the rest of us lost sight of him. It seems he was able to get into his car and he… well, it seems he tried to purposefully run Morgan down. But he was able to jump out of the way at the last minute," J.J. explained.

Spencer shook his head as he thought about the Unsub's boldness. He couldn't believe the man would try to run Derek down, even though he was being pursued by a team of Federal agents. And it didn't sit well with him that the man had seemed to be attempting to get into his apartment again.

"So, what's going to happen? Were you guys able to track him or anything?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, no. All we know is that he was driving a black car of some sort. Morgan and Rossi think it's a luxury vehicle. But that's not that uncommon in Vegas. And the guy didn't have plates, so our analyst didn't have much to work with," Emily explained.

Seeing that Spencer was getting that defeated look on his face again, J.J. knew she had to give him a better outlook.

"But! We had a really productive briefing this morning. We were able to get together and really start to pick apart this guy's profile. And right now our technical analyst has about 17 guys she's going to run background checks on. So I really feel like we'll weed this guy out pretty soon," she said encouragingly.

Spencer let out a sigh as he shrugged.

"I hope so," was all he said.

Emily and J.J. exchanged concerned looks.

"Hey, how about we start in on that breakfast?" Emily asked with a smile.

"I'm… not really hungry," Spencer said, voice still sounding deflated.

"Well, you're not going to let that coffee go to waste, now will you?" Emily asked, feigning shock.

Spencer's lip quirked upward in a slight smile as he glanced at her.

"I guess that would be quite a waste, huh?" he asked.

"Definitely," J.J. said as she led him into the kitchen.

* * *

When Rossi arrived at the Medical Examiner's office, he was just finishing the last of his bagel. He had stopped off for a quick bite to eat on his way over and had appreciated having had the quiet time to himself. He allowed himself the quick detour because he always figured when it came to dead bodies, having them waiting a couple more minutes never hurt anybody. While enjoying his breakfast, he had spent a few minutes thinking about a topic that had recently been plaguing his thoughts. Namely, what to do about Morgan and Spencer.

The senior profiler had been picking up 'vibes' from the younger agent throughout the course of the investigation and he had an inkling he knew what those vibes meant. Derek seemed to be enamored with the boy, and Rossi would bet on it that Spencer was making eyes over the tall, dark agent as well. He felt pretty confident in assuming that Spencer had been the one to initiate things.

He had not had much time to interact with Spencer, but the few times he had, Spencer always seemed to hang on Derek Morgan's every word. Even in the beginning, when Spencer had seemed to be angry at the agent, he still focused on him more than any of the other members of the team. It also wasn't lost on the seasoned profiler that every time there was contact from the Unsub, the first person Spencer called was Morgan. It wasn't like Spencer couldn't call the local police, just by dialing 911. That would have immediately gotten him in contact with the FBI, and most likely Hotch, who was the supervisor of the team. Most victims of crime would prefer to deal with the first in command. Spencer was different.

Albeit, there wasn't necessarily anything  _strange_  about the fact that Spencer seemed to gravitate toward Morgan. It was understandable that the boy probably felt more comfortable confiding in another man than he would with the female agents. And Morgan was probably the closest in age to Spencer. But, Rossi was aware of how guarded Spencer had been when he first met Morgan. It had seemed like Morgan was the furthest from anyone Spencer would ever want to rely on. But, something had noticeably changed. Rossi wasn't quite sure what had transpired between them, but he  _was_  sure it had to do with the conversation Spencer and Morgan had had the day Morgan was assigned to interview Spencer.

And it was obvious that Morgan had undergone a drastic change as well. Initially, Morgan treated the boy like a pest. Someone with a bad attitude that he had had to put up with as a function of the case. But, now, Morgan was almost territorial. As if he didn't trust anyone to protect Spencer. Rossi knew it wasn't because Morgan doubted the team's ability—he would probably be the first person to sing his team's praises. Instead, it seemed more like Morgan just couldn't relax unless he was with Spencer. Rossi had definitely noticed how tense the man was when Hotch would give him assignments away from Spencer, and how much the tension had eased when Morgan would come back from seeing the boy.

But Rossi wasn't about to begrudge the younger agent his tiny bit of happiness. It was very hard to find the silver lining in this type of job. More often than not, they were called in too late and too many people had died for them to feel like they had really helped anyone. Sure, it felt good to stop a killer in his or her tracks, but there was always a lingering sense of defeat when so many had died before they had had a chance to intervene. Being able to know you played a role in stopping someone from becoming a psychopath's latest victim was one of the most rewarding parts of the job. So Rossi personally understood why Morgan was so invested. He wanted to save Spencer.

However, when that interest in saving Spencer, turned into an  _interest_  in Spencer, Rossi couldn't quite say. But he was sure that was what it was. Something had shifted, and, judging by the look in Morgan's eyes lately, he had realized it too. Rossi had even seen it last night when Morgan had first arrived at the surveillance van. Something was troubling him. He was distracted. And since Morgan had just left the boy's apartment, it didn't take much for Rossi to deduce that something Spencer had done had ruffled Morgan's feathers. Rossi didn't know what Morgan intended to  _do_  about whatever it was that had happened between him and Spencer, but Morgan had definitely channeled whatever frustration he was feeling into his pursuit of the Unsub last night. To a certain extent, Morgan had even been a bit reckless.

What was gnawing at Rossi, however, was his concern about how 'serious' Morgan's interest in the boy was or whether that interest would linger after this case. He didn't think that would be good for anybody. While Rossi, personally, would thumb his nose at protocol and professionalism, he believed Morgan probably subscribed to the rules a bit more. He knew the younger agent would grapple with the morality of getting involved with a victim, and especially during an active case. So, if Derek  _wasn't_ serious, it would be in his best interest to end this thing quickly before things got too complicated and someone got hurt.

Shaking his head as he pushed open the doors to the morgue, Rossi decided he would let the day run its course and if any other concerning developments surfaced he would have to pull Morgan aside and have a talk with him. If only just to force the younger agent to deal with the issue head-on.

* * *

Emily and J.J. had spent the better part of the morning trying to divert Spencer's attention from the ongoing case and get the boy's mind off of their injured colleague. They could tell that he felt guilty. They had succeeded in convincing him to play them in chess, and after four games the boy had pretty much destroyed them. They even played one game as a team, and were still defeated. But, the two agents didn't mind since it seemed to keep the conversation far from the topic of the sociopath that was after him.

Throwing her hands up in frustration, J.J. sat back.

"To be honest, I don't really think this is fair," she said with a frown. "The odds are definitely stacked against us here. But, if you want to have a quick-draw or marksmanship contest, you better believe I'd win."

Emily laughed as she patted J.J. on the back.

"Don't mind her, Spencer. There aren't many things J.J.'s bad at, and as a result, she doesn't like to lose," Emily explained.

Spencer smiled brightly at them.

"Well, I have pretty poor hand-eye coordination," he said sheepishly. "Hence, why I was abysmal at all sports in high school. So I'm sure you'd sweep the floor with me."

J.J. laughed at that.

"Aww, come on. I know you're just trying to soothe my bruised ego," she said. "But, hey, if you ever wanna learn how to hit a bulls' eye from 100 feet away, I'll teach you."

"I still think I'd be awful, but you're really kind for offering," he said with a sweet smile.

"Aww, can we keep him?" J.J. asked playfully as she ruffled Spencer's hair, causing the boy to blush. "I really don't think you'd be bad at anything though."

The smile slowly disappeared from Spencer's face, and the two women could tell that something was bothering him.

J.J.'s comment had reminded Spencer that he definitely  _wasn't_  good at everything. Namely the fact that he couldn't seem to convince Agent Morgan to give him the time of day.

"Spencer? Is everything alright?" Emily asked.

"I tried to flirt with the guy I like," he said suddenly.

J.J. and Emily stared at him in shock. Spencer was sitting on the couch looking dejected as he stared down at his hands. They hadn't expected him to say something like that. But they were even more surprised that they had just had a discussion about this yesterday and Spencer had already tried it on his 'special someone.' When had he found the  _time_?

"So… I'm guessing it might not have gone exactly as you had hoped?" Emily asked, sympathetically.

Spencer blushed but continued to stare down at his hands.

"I honestly don't  _know_ ," he said, frustration clear in his voice. "Uh… he  _seemed_  like he was into it… you know, from what I could tell based on his uh… 'physical' reaction. But his mouth was saying something different."

J.J. blushed as she glanced at Emily who had an equally startled expression on her face.

"Uh… if you don't mind us asking…what exactly did you do?" Emily asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted to venture into this territory.

"I…I really don't want to say," Spencer mumbled out as he covered his blushing face with his hands, still refusing to meet their eyes.

"O-okay… Um, well, you said it seemed like he was into it, but he  _said_  he wasn't, right? So, what did he say exactly?" Emily asked, hoping that talking about feelings, instead of  _physical_  reactions, was a safer territory.

"Uh… well, he said that it was unprofessional," Spencer said as he finally looked at them and rolled his eyes in frustration.

The two women cast a knowing look to each other. From what he was saying, they could only assume Spencer's crush must be a coworker.

"Well… those kinds of relationships are always really tough. Especially if someone's worried they might lose their job if they get involved with someone. It's a hard decision to make," J.J. explained.

"T-there's no reason why he should lose his job. What's the big deal? It's not like I'm a minor or anything," Spencer said, petulantly.

Emily and J.J. exchanged another look. Now it seemed that the person Spencer was interested in might be quite a bit older than him.

"Well, even if it might not seem inappropriate to you, you still have to respect the fact that that other person might not be comfortable stepping over that line. You're definitely not a minor, but you  _are_  pretty young, Spencer. How old is this other person?" J.J. asked.

Spencer frowned as he thought about it. He really didn't know very much about Derek at all.

"Um… I'm not actually quite sure. But, I doubt he's any more than 10 years older than me," he said.

"Ten years might not seem like a lot if you were 25 and he was 35, but the difference between 19 and 29 is a lot of 'life' experience, Spencer," Emily said.

Spencer gave her an unimpressed look.

"I have a lot of 'life experience,'" he said flatly, giving her a pointed look.

Emily cringed at that, thinking about what exactly Spencer had had to go through in his short life to have gotten to this point. He was right. He probably did have more life experience than other kids his age. But that didn't necessarily mean he was more emotionally mature. Emily glanced at J.J. and the blonde gave her a reassuring smile.

"Spencer, what I think you should do is put the ball in his court. If you think he's attracted to you, but he's hiding behind something else to justify why a relationship wouldn't work out, you should let him explain himself. You did your part. You told him you like him, and now he has to decide if he wants to pursue something or if he's going to reject you. Giving empty excuses isn't good enough. He owes you a serious answer," J.J. told him.

"I… didn't exactly tell him I l-like him," Spencer muttered, returning his gaze to his hands.

"Okay…? So… you basically tried to jump his bones without telling him why you were doing so?" Emily asked, sounding a bit perplexed.

Spencer nodded silently as he began to nibble on his bottom lip.

"Well… maybe it would help things if he understood where you were coming from. If he thinks getting involved with you might get him in trouble professionally… or morally, there's no way he'd risk that if he thought you were only interested in a one-night stand," Emily explained.

"T-that's not what I wanted!" Spencer sputtered out. "At least… I don't think it was…"

Seeing that the boy was obviously confused, the two women sighed.

J.J. reached over and laid a gentle hand on Spencer's arm, causing him to look up at her.

"Maybe that's something you should figure out before the next time you talk to him. And then, once you've got your thoughts in order, you can try again and make it clear to him where you're coming from," she said with a reassuring smile.

Spencer gave her a small smile, nodding his understanding and suddenly feeling less hopeless about his situation. The next time he talked to Derek Morgan, Spencer would make sure the man couldn't misinterpret his intent.

Emily and J.J. smiled at each other, happy that they could help assuage some of the boy's concerns. Little did the two know that they were helping to arm Spencer with an arsenal to take down their unsuspecting colleague.

* * *

A/N: So, there we have it! It's like Derek & Spencer never meet in the day time. But, naughty things tend to happen at night, hahha, so I guess that's fine ;P. As always, please let me know your thoughts! I look forward to hearing from you!

xoxo


	10. Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole property of the CBS Corporation. This work of fiction has been created purely for entertainment purposes and I am profiting in no way.

A/N: Happy Criminal Minds Wednesday! Today we get a new episode (finally!) and a new chapter! Yay! Thanks for the reviews and comments! And thanks to my beta-reader, Eskimita! Everyone's support has meant so much to me! And it seems people especially liked the addition of Rossi's POV in the last chapter. That was all thanks to a great suggestion by my Beta, so thank her! :)

As a recap: when we last left off we heard some disturbing musings from our Unsub, Rossi was concerned about the emerging situation between Derek & Spencer, and J.J. & Emily gave the boy some additional advice. Where we pick up, Derek's getting ready to see Spencer for the first time, post Spencer's awkward-advances (haha!) and will grapple with how to best deal with the situation.

Happy reading!

xoxo

* * *

Glancing down at his watch and seeing that it was quickly approaching 5pm, Derek yawned loudly and closed another file. He had been working with Hotch for hours, and while he definitely agreed that they had made a lot of progress, he couldn't help but feel restless. J.J. and Emily had given them an update a few hours ago, letting them know that everything was fine with Spencer. They had recently left to take Spencer over to the club to start his shift, and Derek was supposed to come and switch with them once he finished up at the station. Derek couldn't deny the little thrill of excitement he felt at the thought. He told himself it was only because he was looking forward to getting out of the stuffy building, and not because of the prospect of seeing Spencer.

He looked up as Hotch walked into the conference room with a coffee in each hand.

"Are you going to fall asleep on me?" the older man asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Derek rolled his eyes.

"No, but I feel like I'm getting older every second I sit here, man," Derek said.

Before Hotch could respond, his phone began to ring.

"It's Rossi," Hotch said as he glanced at the display. "I'll put him on speaker."

"Hey, Hotch," Rossi said. "I'm still over at the M.E.'s office. She put together some files that I'm going to fax to you guys. I'm also sending a copy of it Garcia's way. But I just wanted to give you a head's up on some of the things we noticed."

"Ok, go ahead," Hotch said.

"What the doctor was able to put together from the prior cases is that it seems the Unsub's using some kind of metal seal to burn the cross into his victims. Based on the size and shape she thinks it's very likely that it's a signet ring. It stood out to her as strange, though, because the imprint was raised. This means that the actual ring is a hollowed-out cross. Apparently she was an art history minor in college, so she pays attention to details like this. Go figure. She thinks we could find out family lineage if we can track the image on the ring. So we should have Garcia look into that," Rossi explained.

"Hmm, that's interesting. I'd be surprised if the Unsub would let himself get caught as easily as that, but using the ring may have personal significance for him, especially if it's related to his family lineage. It may be something he does out of compulsion," Hotch said.

"I was thinking that too," Rossi agreed.

"Ok, good work. We'll have Garcia look into it. Thanks, Rossi," Hotch said.

He then disconnected the call.

Within seconds, Hotch's phone was ringing again. Derek raised an eyebrow and Hotch sighed as he glanced down at it.

Answering the call and putting it on speaker, Hotch said, "Hello, Garcia."

"Hey, boss-man. I just received some really icky looking pictures of burned skin from the Las Vegas Medical Examiner," she said.

"Yes, Rossi was just telling us about that. We're going to need you to do a search of families with crests that might have images similar to what's been burned into our victims' skin," Hotch explained.

"Are you kidding me?" the analyst asked. "What are we, in a 15th century novel here? Family crests?"

Derek laughed at her incredulity.

"Look, baby girl, we don't come up with this stuff. We just gotta get inside this guy's head and if his family's crest is important to him, we gotta know about it," he said.

"Fine, fine, but I'm going to need to look at a lot of baby pandas after seeing this," she complained.

"In other less disturbing news, I finally got all the pictures for the photo array," Garcia updated.

"That's great, Garcia," Hotch said. "Since Morgan's going to be heading over to the club in a little while to relieve J.J. and Prentiss, send him the photo array file and he can show them to Spencer when he gets a moment."

"Copy that. I've sent them to your mobile, darling," Garcia said.

"Thanks, mama," Derek responded as he heard the incoming mail notification.

Hotch glanced down at his watch and then looked at Derek, who seemed itching to leave.

"Alright, Morgan. It's about time for you to head over. So you're free to go," he said as he looked at the man amusedly.

"Thanks, Hotch! See you all later tonight!" Derek said as he grabbed his jacket, and without sparing his supervisor a second glance, he was out the door.

* * *

As Spencer placed down the last of his customers' drinks, doing his best to sidestep the grabby hands of the raucous group of men seated at his table, he glanced up across the room and his heart did a little leap as the object of his affection walked into the room.

Quickly stepping away from the table of lecherous old men, Spencer watched with surprise as the agent spoke to one of the server girls while flashing his badge, and the girl turned and pointed across the room straight at him. As the agent's eyes caught his own, his heart leapt again, and Spencer gripped the serving tray he had been holding tightly to his chest. His mouth felt dry. Was he nervous?

As Derek began to make his way across the club, obviously intent on meeting Spencer, Spencer also began inching through the crowds towards the agent. In a matter of moments, the two were standing facing each other.

Still holding his badge out, Derek began to open his mouth when Spencer grabbed his tie and pulled him close.

"Why, Agent Morgan? You couldn't get enough of me since the last time?" Spencer asked flirtatiously.

Derek's face immediately heated up as he tried to pull back from the boy.

"Spencer, I told you, we are not going to do this-" Derek began.

But Spencer gripped his tie tighter and pulled him in closer, so their faces were almost touching.

"Just play along,  _Agent_  Morgan. You keep flashing that badge around here and you're going to get all the wrong types of attention. I already told you Lindy doesn't want to see any of you guys back in here. And I don't want my coworkers— _or_  my clients—thinking I'm some kind of narc. So you need to act like you're here for the service, if you want to avoid raising more suspicion than you already have," Spencer whispered seriously.

Derek nodded silently and allowed Spencer to lead him, by his tie, to a more secluded corner of the room. The two stood in silence as a few other customers and scantily-clad employees walked past them, throwing curious glances in their direction. Derek took advantage of the time to take in Spencer's attire. The boy was actually wearing  _more_  clothes than the last time he had seen him in the club, but tonight's outfit had a similar, stimulating effect on the stoic agent.

Atop the boy's head sat a pair of long white bunny ears, attached to a black headband that held his bangs back slightly. His face was dusted in fine gold powder and his light eyes popped, outlined in dark liner. He was wearing a sleeveless white, button-down top, along with his signature black bowtie. The shirt was a bit short so whenever the boy shifted, the agent was afforded a teasing glimpse at the smooth skin of his taut stomach. This was accompanied by a pair of gold, glittery hot pants that featured a little white cotton ball tail. A tail which sat right above a bright-red heart that was smack in the middle of his ( _noticeably plump-looking_ , Derek thought to himself) bottom. Followed by a ridiculous pair of thigh-high white stockings and his Converses. Although the outfit was a bit comical, it had its desired, lust-inducing, effect. He looked like a Playboy bunny. A delicious one, at that.

Catching the agent appraising him, Spencer felt his heart race and his lips curved upward.

"I'm glad you find the view to your liking, but, to be honest, I'm surprised to see you again so soon, Derek," he purred, drawing the man out of his musings.

Derek's dark eyes snapped up to Spencer's honey ones and the look in the boy's eyes told him he had been caught.

"I wasn't kidding about what I said last night," Spencer said, as he approached the agent and slipped his arms beneath the older man's and around his waist. Pressing his lithe body against the agent's more muscular one, Spencer leaned up and whispered in the agent's ear.

"After you left I… all I could think about was how badly I wanted to touch you, and taste you…and suck your cock," Spencer said, his warm breath blowing softly over Derek's ear.

Derek gulped to himself as he pushed the boy back, using a bit more force than he had intended. His priority at that moment was to not let Spencer see—or feel—the effect his words were having on him. And at the moment, they were having quite the effect as Derek could feel himself rapidly stiffening inside his pants.

_This kid is going to be the death of me_ , Derek thought.

Looking up at the boy, who looked slightly hurt by his rejection, Derek sighed.

"Why're you doing this, kid?" he asked, as he tried to read Spencer's eyes in the dim light of the club.

Spencer frowned, seeming genuinely confused.

"Isn't it obvious…? I'm trying to show you that I like you," Spencer said matter-of-factly, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Derek raised an eyebrow. There were so many things wrong with Spencer's simple statement.

"I… Kid, you don't have to do  _any_  of that to show someone you like them," he responded.

Spencer stared at him, mouth turned down into a disgruntled pout. He was studying the agent, trying to figure out if the older man was serious or not.

"Oh yeah? Well that seems to be all anyone has have ever wanted… and to be honest, you don't look like you  _don't_  want it," Spencer said, staring at Derek challengingly.

Derek stiffened at the boy's accusation.

"Spencer, just because you had to say things like that as part of your  _job_ , doesn't mean that's how you show your affection to someone in real life," he responded, avoiding taking the bait.

Spencer frowned as he looked down at his hands. It seemed like he was really giving thought to the older man's words.

"And kid," Derek said on a sigh. "This… 'liking' me thing… I think you're really jumping the gun here."

Spencer's head shot up and he looked at Derek with a pained expression.

"Why would you say that?" he asked.

Derek grimaced at the expression on the boy's face, wanting to kick himself for causing him to look like that.

"You… you've only known me for a couple of days. There's no way… Spencer, you  _don't_  have feelings for me. You're just confused," Derek explained.

Spencer's eyes widened and he blinked at Derek in incredulity.

"Are you kidding me right now?" he asked, anger edging into his voice. "You think I haven't wracked my brain back and forth for  _hours_  about how I feel? I couldn't even sleep last night! I'm not someone who just does things on a whim, you know? I think  _everything_  through, going through all the possible equations and coming to conclusions. And this is the conclusion I've come to! So don't you dare tell me I don't know what's inside my own head!"

Derek cringed as Spencer's voice rose, and he was reminded that they were still at the club where anyone could hear them. It wouldn't be in his best interest if someone overheard Spencer declaring his feelings for the agent that was supposed to be protecting him. He had no idea how to respond to the younger man's words, and knew that if he said the first thing on his mind, Spencer would likely be able to rope him into admitting to something he wasn't yet comfortable with. So Derek knew he needed to buy himself some time.

"Look, kid, I have something I need to talk to you about…Case-related. I know your manager's probably going to have a fit if she catches me in here. So, is it ok if we step outside for a minute?" Derek asked.

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest and shot him a disgruntled look.

"Fine, whatever," he huffed out.

* * *

Once outside, Spencer and Derek leaned against the side of the building, neither one of them looking at the other. They could hear the sounds of traffic driving by on the main road, accompanied by the dull thump of music coming from inside the club. The scent of cigarette smoke was on the air.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Spencer asked, as he looked down at his shoes. The lighting in the parking lot wasn't that much brighter than in the club, but Spencer felt more exposed outside of the club and wanted to get back inside as soon as possible. He wondered if Derek would think differently of him now that he was able to get a better look at him. He wouldn't easily admit to himself that he was insecure about the situation with Derek, but that was simply and plainly what he was feeling in the current moment.

"Our technical analyst was able to put together a photo array of some of the guys you might have run across in the club and who fit the profile we've been building of the suspect. I just need you to go through these and tell me if any of the faces stand out," Derek explained.

Spencer frowned. Derek really  _was_  asking him questions related to the case. He hadn't actually expected that. And while he was glad that the older man hadn't been just saying that to change the subject, Spencer also couldn't help but feel as if Derek wasn't taking him seriously. Thinking over what the agent had asked him, Spencer shook his head.

"To be completely honest… I'm not so great with faces, and I tend to try not to really  _look_  at the guys while I'm… uh… performing," he said as he looked back down at his feet.

"Well, I was pretty damn impressed with your ability to remember during your interview after the first time the Unsub called you," Derek said, with a soft smile.

"I have an  _eidetic_  memory… that's for  _words_ , not necessarily people. I can remember anything I've ever read, so written words are no problem for me. I also do better than average at remembering words I've heard. But, I've been kind of bad at remembering faces…" Spencer admitted.

"Oh… well, our subconscious picks up more than we think we're aware of so, at least give it a try?" Derek asked.

Spencer shrugged and nodded. Derek then pulled out his phone and accessed the file Garcia had sent him. Pulling up the list of suspects and seeing it for the first time, he hesitated for a moment. It was very likely that the person who had been stalking Spencer, and had made an attempt on Derek's life, was among these 17 faces. They were so close to finishing this case and the thought of it both exhilarated Derek and caused his stomach to twist into knots. Finishing meant they had to leave.

Shaking his head to clear it of the unnecessary thoughts, Derek leaned over to Spencer and showed him the files. Coaching him on how he should look at the images, Derek watched on as Spencer carefully analyzed each picture, seeming to actually be wracking his brain to determine if he had ever seen any of them before.

By the time they were done, Spencer was able to pick out twelve men he thought he had seen at one point or another.

"These are the ones that kind of seem familiar, but… I don't really know any of them. Sorry I couldn't be more helpful," Spencer apologized.

"Don't worry about it kid," Derek said as he leaned against the brick wall behind them. "Anything you can give us that can help us narrow our massive list down is helpful. Plus, the people I showed you weren't your everyday customer. They also have a financial investment in this club chain."

"Investors?" Spencer asked with interest. "I don't think I've met any before."

"Well, it was a lead we acquired when I went and interviewed a scumbag porn-producer the other day. We became aware of him because our tech analyst found out about an old murder that seems to fit our Unsub's signature, but apparently slipped through the cracks. So this guy I interviewed knew the victim and he let me in on this investor angle. Apparently, the investors attend all the parties," Derek explained.

Spencer scowled at the mention of the parties. He was uninterested in hearing anymore about that.

"Ok, well I'm glad I could help you Agent Morgan," he said, tone far more formal than it had been in a long time.

Derek blinked in surprise at Spencer's distant tone.

"Whoa, you okay?" he asked. "I told you that it's fine to just call me Derek."

Spencer sighed and averted his eyes.

"What's the point? You seem to obviously want to keep your distance," Spencer spat, voice belying his hurt feelings.

Derek's brows furrowed.

"Kid, that's not true. I don't want you to start pulling away from me," Derek said. "I really appreciate you being able to open up and rely on me. We work really well together. And I want us to keep doing that."

"Well, that's easier said than done. When I tell you I like you, you don't answer me about your feelings. You keep trying to tell me what  _I_  think, but you very carefully avoid telling me what  _you_  think. If you thought you could get that past me, then I think you underestimate my intelligence. If you want to say you're not interested in me, then that's fine. I can take it." Spencer said, as he bit his lip and looked down at his feet.

He said he could take it—and he was sure that he could—but that didn't mean he had to look into Derek's dark brown eyes while the man told him. That would make the rejection even more painful.

But Derek was speechless. In fact, it was as if his voice had shriveled up inside his throat. He couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and reject Spencer. Because that would mean it would all be over and he'd lose the boy. Even though telling Spencer, flat out, "No, I'm not interested" would be the easier route, and would keep things from becoming messy, Derek just didn't want to  _do_  that. He couldn't. Spencer had infiltrated his every thought and it would be an outright lie to tell the boy he wasn't interested. He didn't think he was brave enough yet to reach out and accept Spencer, but that didn't mean he was willing to permanently push him away either.

As the silence dragged on, Spencer risked looking up at the older man and he was taken aback by the intensity of emotion in Derek's eyes as the man stared at him. He seemed to be really grappling with his feelings and it made Spencer's heart clench in renewed hope. Maybe there  _was_  something there?

Before Derek knew what was happening, Spencer had stepped closer to him, closing the space between them. Spencer looked up at him, training those clear, honey-colored eyes on the agent's darker ones and observed him quietly. Lowering his brows in confusion, Derek opened his mouth to inquire about Spencer's proximity, but the boy reached out and grabbed the agent's shoulders, pulling him down. And then his lips were pressing against Derek's, clumsy and hesitant.

Derek inhaled sharply, surprised at the presence of the soft lips molded against his. Spencer was just like he had imagined, down to the feel of the soft chestnut hair brushing against his forehead and the subtle hint of coffee and cinnamon wafting off of the boy's skin. Everything in his being wanted to give in to the boy's unsure kiss, wrap his arms around him and pull him closer. He wanted to open his mouth against Spencer's, and take control of the kiss, showing the boy how to do it properly. But Derek hesitated, his body tensing, reminding himself that reaching out to Spencer—validating the boy's burgeoning feelings—would only make things harder on them when it was time to leave.

So Derek stood still, basking in the warm tremors Spencer's kiss sent rolling throughout his body, but refusing to return the boy's kiss. After a few moments, Spencer pulled away, and Derek found himself immediately yearning for the boy to reinitiate the broken contact. He opened his eyes (which he hadn't even been aware he had closed) and looked at the younger man standing in front of him.

Spencer was looking at him carefully, brows furrowed and worrying his plump bottom lip between his teeth. He seemed to be searching Derek's eyes for something, and the older man wasn't quite sure if Spencer would find what he was looking for. He wouldn't allow himself to believe that  _he_ could be what Spencer was looking for. But Derek's eyes could only hold Spencer's for a moment, as they were drawn down to the lip Spencer was nibbling on and flooded his mind with thoughts of all the things he could to do to that boy's lips. He watched absentmindedly as Spencer's teeth released the lip, his breath hitching as the boy's pink tongue darted out to wet them. Refusing to give in to his mind's desires, Derek blinked rapidly and forced his eyes back up to Spencer's.

Spencer was trying to figure Derek out. He had battled with himself before throwing caution to the wind and kissing the stoic agent. And while the man hadn't pushed him away, Spencer was also painfully aware that Derek had seemed to have had no reaction at  _all_. This hadn't been Spencer's first kiss. He knew that if someone wanted to kiss you, they would at least  _move_. But, it  _had_  been his first time really initiating one. So, he had quickly become insecure once he had pressed his lips against the agent's and the man had done absolutely nothing. Doubt started to flood his mind, telling himself that he had picked the wrong time, or maybe something about the way he kissed was off-putting. But, when Spencer had finally opened his eyes, mere seconds before he pulled away from the older man, he had seen that Derek's eyes had been closed too. Hoping that that was a good sign—at least an indicator that the older man hadn't  _hated_  it—Spencer steeled his resolve.

"Look," Spencer said, staring straight into Derek's eyes, although his cheeks were dusted with pink and his voice trembled slightly. "I-I was absolutely serious when I said I had feelings for you, ok? I'm not…just scared and looking for someone to protect me. It's not like nobody's ever promised to take care of me before. But with you it's different… I just think you're a good person and I… Well, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm 'attracted' to you, ok? B-but it's more than just those things. I...I have all these feelings that I've never had before, and the  _only_  thing that's different in my life is YOU. So… don't try to just brush it off. I'm  _serious_  about this, Derek."

By the time the boy finished his face was flushed a dusky red. It appeared admitting something like this so openly had been very difficult for Spencer. Derek found himself frowning, even while, on the inside, he was touched by the boy's words. But he was troubled by them because it was clear to him that everything Spencer was feeling was new to the boy. Spencer had all but told him he had never even spent time  _thinking_ about relationships since he got caught up in this lifestyle. So, all Derek could think was that it wasn't 'fair' to Spencer that the first person he had to feel these types of feelings for was someone like  _him._ Any kind of relationship they would have would be complicated. And that was putting it lightly. His heart kept on telling him, ' _Don't let Spencer waste these feelings on you.'_

"I think we need to have a serious talk, ok?" Derek said, while running a hand over his face tiredly. "I'll be here until the end of your shift, and then I'll take you home. We can talk then. Sound good?"

Spencer nodded quietly, watching the older man carefully to try to determine in which direction their 'talk' would lean. Seeing the boy analyzing him, Derek chuckled softly.

"I see those gears turning. Don't get ahead of yourself, kid. You can ask me whatever you want to ask me later, so don't worry yourself about it now," Derek told him.

Spencer sighed and smiled.

"Ok. I'm gonna head back to work then," he said.

Derek watched the boy until he disappeared behind the doors of  _Mon Petite_   _Chien_ , and then he let out a heavy sigh. What exactly  _would_  he tell Spencer?

* * *

It was just after midnight when Spencer walked out of the club, sighing in relief that his shift had passed uneventfully. Derek was standing by the door waiting and Spencer's surprised face showed how genuinely happy he was to see the man. Derek smiled back at him.

"How was work?" he asked.

Derek still didn't like that he wasn't allowed to monitor Spencer inside the club. But he had made sure to do a thorough job of keeping track of everyone who entered and exited, comparing them against the photos he had received from Garcia.

Spencer shrugged.

"Pretty run of the mill. I basically just waited tables all night long. The tips were ok but… I can't keep this up for too long. If I don't get my regulars back, I'm gonna have to take Lindy's 'advice' and go back on the main stage or, I'm going to have to find a different job," Spencer said flatly.

They were both silent for a while as they mulled over his words. It pained Derek to see how resigned to his fate Spencer seemed, but Derek also knew that he didn't have very many suggestions to change the boy's situation. He didn't want him to have to dwell on it, though. So Derek threw a casual arm around Spencer's shoulder.

"Come on, it's late. Let's get you home," he said, as he led the boy over to the large SUV.

They both climbed into the car, and Spencer sat silently as Derek started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He worried himself over whether Derek would want to 'talk' on the ride home, or whether he would want to reserve their conversation until they were in the privacy of his apartment. For some reason, being alone with Derek made his face heat up. Spencer wanted to kick himself for being so infatuated. He wasn't used to having these feelings running through him. He wasn't used to feeling much at  _all_ , actually. And he didn't exactly like that he couldn't control his reactions. The soft sound of Derek hissing drew Spencer out of his musings, and he turned to observe the older man.

Spencer watched Derek driving and as he made a turn, he noticed Derek wince slightly. He wondered if Derek was showing signs of the injuries he had sustained last night. Spencer couldn't see any obvious cuts or bruises on any of Derek's exposed skin, but he had no idea what kind of damage, if any, had been done under the man's clothes. J.J and Emily had advised him not to ask Derek about his run-in with the Unsub, but Spencer wouldn't be able to let it rest unless he knew the extent of Derek's injuries from the man himself.

"Um… J.J. and Emily told me about what happened with you and g-getting hit by a car," Spencer said hesitantly.

Derek glanced at Spencer from the corner of his eye as they came to a stoplight. He sighed and remained silent for a while. When the light turned green, he resumed driving and Spencer was convinced the man was just going to ignore his question.

"So… what exactly did they tell you?" Derek finally asked.

"They wouldn't tell me much. Just that you went to the hospital, but that you're fine," Spencer said.

"Well, what they said was true. There's nothing more to know, kid," Derek said with a shrug.

" _Well_ , seeing as how you've winced a number of times since you started driving and seem to be favoring your left side, it would appear that you have some kind of soreness or injury on your right. So you might not be as 'fine' as you say you are," Spencer said with a shrug of his own.

Derek laughed and shook his head.

"You know, you'd make a pretty good profiler," Derek said.

Spencer flushed and beamed at the man's praise.

"It could still happen, I guess. Who knows? So tell me what the real damage is?" Spencer asked, giving him a pointed look.

Derek rolled his eyes.

"Just a few scrapes. I jumped out of the way of the car and it just kind of nicked my right side. My hands got pretty scratched up, too. See?" Derek asked.

He then held up his right hand for Spencer to inspect, while he looked to the left and turned.

Spencer reached out and grabbed Derek's large, warm hand. Staring at the man's palm, he could see the jagged scrapes. They looked painful, but he knew they would be almost completely healed in a few short days. Feeling Spencer's hands close around his, Derek glanced at the boy, who was studying his hand carefully. He ran his fingers over the expanse of Derek's palm and Derek shuddered slightly, as the boy's light caresses tickled him. It amused Derek that Spencer committed what could be seen as an intimate action with such innocence, seemingly not knowing the effect he could have on others when he wasn't even trying. It was just as Derek said: Spencer didn't need to be seductive to show Derek that he liked him.

Turning his eyes back to the road, Derek closed his hand around Spencer's and squeezed. He could feel the boy tense, but then Spencer squeezed his hand back softly. And they drove like that, hand in hand, in silence, the rest of the way to Spencer's apartment.

* * *

As he walked up the stairs to his apartment, followed by Derek, Spencer was giddy with excitement. He had blushed the whole ride back from the club and was thankful that the darkness inside the interior of the car hid this embarrassing fact. Of all the things Spencer had experienced since he had been recruited into this 'lifestyle,' it shocked him that he had never had someone just hold his hand. And having had Derek do that sent all these warm feelings throughout his body. It made him want to grin like an idiot.

He stopped in front of his apartment door, and as he fumbled to find his house keys, he was especially aware of Derek's presence behind him. He felt as if Derek was standing closer than he ever had before. But Spencer wasn't sure if that was just in his head.

As he opened his door and stepped into his apartment, his smile faltered. He could immediately sense that something was wrong. Nothing seemed quite out of place, but there was a slight tingling at the base of his neck that made him uneasy. Something was  _off_.

Glancing around the small living room, Spencer's eyes widened slightly as they landed on a small package wrapped in unassuming parchment paper sitting innocuously on his coffee table. He swallowed thickly.  _That_  had definitely not been there when he left earlier that day. His stomach twisted in knots at the implications of the innocent-looking package. It meant that someone had been  _inside_  his apartment.

Derek watched as Spencer came to a stop in the middle of his living room and stared at his coffee table. He couldn't understand what had caused the boy to suddenly become a human statute.

"Kid?" he asked, stepping up behind Spencer and placing a hand on his arm.

Spencer jumped.

"T-that," Spencer said, pointing ahead of him, "was  _not_  there when I left today."

Derek's body tensed as his eyes zeroed in on what Spencer was pointing at and realization dawned on him.

"Step back," he said as he grabbed Spencer and pulled him behind him.

From what Derek could see the package was small, approximately 6 inches by 4 inches and about 2 inches thick. The packaging and size did not look threatening in any way, but after having seen the irrational rage expressed by the Unsub last night Derek wouldn't put it past the man to escalate his usually harmless gifts to lethal ones. The package could contain anything from poison to a small bomb. Derek was also concerned that the man's boldness had obviously increased as well, as the package was found displayed on Spencer's coffee table when all other gifts had been left at his doorstep. Derek wasn't about to risk it by opening the package, especially not with Spencer in the room.

Tightening his hold on Spencer's arm, Derek began to lead the boy back to the door.

"I'm gonna call Hotch and the rest of the team so we can get them and a crime scene unit down here. I don't know what's in that package, but we'll be safer letting someone else take a look at it first. You and I are going to wait outside until the team gets here," he explained.

Still in a state of shock, Spencer could only nod.

* * *

Once the crime scene techs had finished unwrapping and inspecting the package, they walked over to the team of federal agents who were standing in a semi-circle, talking about the case.

"Nothing harmful detected on the item or the wrapping," the head tech said as she came to a stop in front of the agents. "And no trace evidence could be lifted from any of the item's surfaces. However we  _were_  able to lift a number of prints off of the wrapping. We won't be able to check for a match in any of our databases until we can sit down in front of our equipment, but from our cursory analysis we are confident that all the prints come from one individual."

Hotch let out a sigh of frustration.

"Our Unsub doesn't  _leave_  prints. Whoever those prints belong to, I'm sure they're not his," he said.

The other team members nodded their agreement.

"So, what was in the package?" Derek asked the tech as he tried to make out what the woman held in her gloved hands.

"Here, take a look for yourself," she said as she handed him the item.

"It's a  _book_ …" Derek said as he turned the heavy, leather-bound tome over in his hands while his team looked on. "But, it looks to be in… Russian, maybe? What does this even say?"

"It's a first-edition of  _The Idiot_ , by Dostoyevsky," Spencer breathed out, shock apparent in his voice.

The agents turned to look at him as he leaned over Derek's shoulder, having forgotten for a moment that he was standing with them as they were discussing the recent developments. He had been so quiet up until this point.

"Is there some kind of symbolism in-" Emily began but Spencer quickly cut her off.

Looking up at the dark-haired woman with wide, panicked eyes, Spencer said, "This is one of my favorite books. How could he have known something like that?"

The agents in the room were silent as they looked at each other and mulled over the information.

"So… you can read Russian?" Rossi asked gently, gaining Spencer's attention.

Spencer nodded, eyes still trained on the book in Derek's hands.

"I… I taught myself because I wanted to read books from my favorite authors without the errors and licenses that tend to be taken when one produces a translation but…" Spencer trailed off.

"How would the Unsub know that you could read this," Rossi finished for him.

"I… I really have no idea. It's not like that just comes up in conversation. I don't think  _anyone_  knows that about me. H-how did he find out?" Spencer asked, finally looking up at all the agents, a pleading look in his eyes.

Hotch could see that Spencer seemed very close to losing it. While the boy had tried to put up a strong front when he had received the other gifts, this gift resonated with the boy personally. And he looked terrified.

"Spencer," Hotch said, turning to the panicking boy. "I think for right now you should come back with us to the station. Prentiss and J.J. will conduct something called a cognitive interview on you to see if you remember anything you might have said to someone in your past that would give them information like this about you."

Spencer glanced at the stern-looking, dark-haired man. He had never said more than a few words to him over the course of the investigation, but now the man was looking at him with soft eyes.

"I…" Spencer said as he looked around his apartment, taking in the sight of the cops and technicians milling about the small room. "What about everything that's going on here?"

"Don't worry. Agents Morgan and Rossi still have some more investigating to do. So they'll stay here and keep an eye on everything. And as soon as we have any information, we'll be sure to update you," Hotch said.

Spencer quickly glanced to Derek and he was met with a reassuring smile.

"O-ok… I guess that works," Spencer said.

"Good to hear. Just follow them to the car," Hotch said as he gestured to Emily and J.J. "And we'll be out of here in just a few minutes."

Spencer hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded and allowed J.J. and Emily to guide him out of the apartment. Once the door had closed behind them, Hotch turned to Rossi and Derek, face becoming more serious.

"Rossi, Morgan," he said, giving each man a meaningful look. "The on-duty officer said that no one, except those on the pre-approved list of residents, has entered the building the entire day. There are two uniformed officers watching the back entrance, and they both said there has been little to no activity during their watch. I think whoever left this package is a tenant. So I want you to interview every single person in this building and figure out who broke into Spencer's apartment."

The two men nodded their agreement, and, satisfied, Hotch turned and left the apartment.

* * *

Over the course of the last half hour, Derek and Rossi had worked their way through the apartments on the first floor of Spencer's building. By the time they started it was already approaching 1:00 in the morning, so, needless to say, many of the tenants they interviewed were less than excited to speak with them. Most answered the door in an irate state. But the serious look of the two imposing men, coupled with their professional credentials, made the tenants more willing to be helpful. They just weren't happy about it.

As they climbed the stairs back up to Spencer's floor, they were basically in the same place they had started in terms of information. No one had been able to give them anything useful. Once they cleared the landing they turned and headed to the right corner apartment, three doors down from Spencer's.

Derek raised his hand and pounded firmly on the door. After a few moments, they saw a light switch on from under the door and heard the sound of shuffling.

"What? Who is it?" a voice called from behind the door.

"FBI!" Derek responded curtly as he raised his badge and held it in front of the peephole. "Open up, sir."

Derek and Rossi listened to the sounds of a chain being removed and the door unlocking. When the door opened, they were faced with an average-sized man, of average height, with red hair and black glasses, who was looking at them in confusion. He appeared to be in his early 30's.

"FBI?" the man asked as he squinted at the badge.

"Yes." Rossi said. "Sir, we need to ask you some questions."

"O-ok… What is this about?" the man asked, glancing between Derek and Rossi.

"First off, we need to know your name, and if anyone else lives here with you," Derek said as he glanced over the man's shoulder into the dim apartment.

"Oh, my name is Gavin Russell," the man responded. "And no, I live by myself."

He watched on as Rossi scribbled some words into his notebook.

"Ok, Mr. Russell. You know Spencer Reid? Kid who lives down the hall, in 2B?" Derek asked as he pointed towards Spencer's apartment.

The man's eyes widened slightly at the question, and the reaction did not go unnoticed by the two agents.

"Uh… No, I don't actually 'know' him. I mean, I've seen the kid come and go from that apartment. I know he works late because I also work nights—I'm a programmer, you see, and I can make my own schedule. I don't know what that kid does for work, but I'm thinking it's something sketchy. Sometimes I see him come home and I can tell he's wearing some type of flashy outfit under his jacket. And a couple of times when I pass him on the stairs, I can tell he's definitely wearing makeup," Russell said as he shook his head, disapprovingly.

When he looked up, he was met with Derek's dark glare. The man flinched.

"U-uh… _but_ , like I said, I don't really know him or anything. I didn't even know his last name before you just told me. But whenever we passed each other in the hall or on the stairs he's always been very polite. D-did something happen to him?" Russell asked, looking genuinely concerned.

Rossi tilted his head curiously.

"No, Mr. Reid is fine. A crime was committed inside his apartment earlier, and we're interested in finding out if anyone in the building saw or heard anything," he explained.

Russell furrowed his brow in confusion.

"A crime? What kind of crime?" he asked.

"Breaking and entering," Derek said, watching the man carefully. "And we know it was someone in this building. We have fingerprints and our analysts are running them as we speak."

Russell blanched.

"Um… breaking and entering? I don't think… Uh, if you find any prints, I just think it's important that you guys know that  _I_ was in his apartment earlier today," he said.

Derek and Rossi tensed.

"Excuse me?" Rossi asked, as his hand began to move toward his holstered weapon.

"Hold on, hold on!" Russell said, seeing the agent's action. "I was in his apartment, but it was totally innocent! No crime was committed. I had  _permission_!"

Rossi and Derek exchanged a look.

"Permission from  _who_ , you dirt bag? That kid didn't give anyone access to his apartment," Derek almost barked out.

"No, no. Not  _Spencer_. His brother! His brother asked me to deliver a package and he gave me a key," the man explained.

"Ok, I'm gonna need you to step outside into the hallway and close the door behind you," Derek said as his hand also trailed to his weapon

"Ok, ok. But seriously, guys, don't shoot me," the man pleaded as he put his hands up and stepped out of the apartment.

Rossi rolled his eyes.

"Get your hands against the wall," he ordered, and watched as Russell did so.

As Rossi began to pat the man down, Derek began firing off questions at him.

"Who the hell gave you a key to the kid's apartment?" he asked.

"Uh, I told you! His  _brother,_ " Russell sputtered out.

"The kid doesn't  _have_ a brother, so try again," Derek said in a clipped tone.

"W-well, how am I supposed to know that! It was a man I met at the grocery store," Russell responded, as he craned his neck to look at Derek pleadingly. "He stopped me in the parking lot on my way into the store. He told me he knew I lived in his brother's apartment, and that he had a birthday present for him. He wanted it to be a surprise and asked me if I could drop it off for him. H-he had a  _key_!"

"What?" Rossi asked as he stepped back, satisfied that the man was unarmed. "A random stranger stops you outside a store and you just believe him?"

"What do you want from me?" Russell asked, defensively, as he turned and faced the agents. "I mean, sure I was kind of confused at first. I didn't want to be transporting something suspicious. But the guy opened the wrapping paper and showed me it was just some old book. So I knew it was nothing dangerous. And he had a key to the kid's apartment, so I figured he really was who he said he was."

"This key, what'd you do with it?" Derek asked.

"Well, I asked the guy what he wanted me to do with the key when I was done and he told me I could just toss it since he had a couple of extras. But, I felt weird doing that so I dropped it in one of the drawers inside Spencer's apartment," Russell said.

Derek flinched hearing that there were more keys where the first one came from.

Rossi let out a sigh and shook his head, his exasperation with the man's foolishness clearly apparent.

"And you just did all this out of the goodness of your heart?" he asked, sarcastically.

Russell flushed and averted his eyes.

"Well… the guy did give me $200. He said he really needed the favor and he didn't have time to run it over and do it himself," he admitted.

"Why am I not surprised?" Rossi asked.

Russell remained silent, seemingly feeling ashamed of his actions.

"What did this guy look like?" Derek demanded, regaining Russell's attention.

"Uh… to be honest, I can't really say," Russell said with a shrug.

"What?" Derek asked, anger bubbling to the surface.

He stepped towards Russell with his hands balled into fists.

"L-look," Russell said as he stepped back from the irate agent. "He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. I couldn't tell anything much about him. I think he might've had dark hair, maybe? I couldn't really tell what color, but definitely not blonde. And he was taller than me. Probably around six-foot. He also seemed pretty fit. But, he was just a regular, friendly guy. Nothing really glaring stood out."

Seeing that Derek looked like he wanted to punch a wall, Rossi intervened.

"Think hard. Anything else noticeable about him? Maybe some kind of scar or blemish on his face?" Rossi asked.

"No, actually," Russell said with a slight frown. "I couldn't really see all of his face, but the guy just kind of looked sickeningly perfect. You know? He had that kind of really great smile, super-perfect white teeth. Straight nose, good skin, and tan. And he was definitely wearing designer clothes. He just had on a casual blazer and jeans, but it all looked expensive. Oh, and he was definitely sporting a  _Rolex_."

"So you noticed all that?" Rossi asked, scribbling in his notebook again.

"Well, yeah, I mean… now that I think about it, it kind of felt like the guy  _wanted_  me to look at all those things. I remember him pushing up his sleeves and playing with his watch a number of times," Russell said thoughtfully.

Rossi and Derek exchanged a look. It seemed their Unsub was even smarter than they had first realized.

"Ok, sir. I'm going to need you to come down to the station for some additional questions," Rossi said as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number.

"Officer McCarthy, could you come up here? We have someone we need to bring in," Rossi said into the phone.

"W-what?  _Why_? I told you all I know," Russell whined.

"At this point, you've aided and abetted a seriously dangerous criminal," Derek told him, an edge still apparent in his voice.

Russell paled.

"I-I  _what_?" he asked, gasping.

"And to make sure you're not really an accomplice, we're going to have to see if your story checks out," Derek continued.

The three men listened as the uniformed officer came up the stairs.

"This the guy?" McCarthy asked as he glanced at Russell.

"Yes, take him down to the station and get his full story. Make sure you run his background too," Rossi explained.

Russell protested as the officer grabbed his arm and led him down the stairs.

As Derek began to follow the pair, Rossi reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Derek… can we talk for a bit before we head back to the station. You know, man to man?" Rossi asked.

Derek stopped and stared at the older profiler, eyebrow raised in suspicion. He and David Rossi often got along, and he appreciated the fact that the older man liked to take a 'back-seat' approach to most things. Rossi liked to stay out of other people's business, probably because he liked them to stay out of  _his_. He preferred to keep things light and if someone had an issue with another team-member, Rossi was usually the first to say 'keep me out of it' and 'ask them yourself.' So it wasn't often that he was the one to initiate the giving of advice, and Derek could definitely tell this was one of those rare moments.

"Ok… what's up?" Derek asked hesitantly.

"I think you and I should have a little chat about what's going on with Spencer," he responded casually.

Derek flinched. That had  _definitely_  not been what he had been expecting. He didn't know exactly what he imagined Rossi wanted to talk about, but at no point did he think it would have involved  _Spencer_. Derek didn't know what to think exactly. But his stomach started to clench at the idea that Rossi might have picked up on something between him and the younger male.

Seeing that Derek wasn't going to acknowledge his statement or initiate the conversation himself, Rossi sighed softly.

" _Is_  there something going on between you and the kid?" Rossi asked, leaving all hints of judgment out of his voice.

"Man, I have no idea what you're talking about," Derek said as he ran a hand over the back of his head. He felt so uncomfortable standing here and having to talk about this with David Rossi.

"I think you do," Rossi responded with a shrug. "They don't keep me around here just to look pretty, you know. I'd be a poor excuse for a profiler if I missed all those lingering glances between the two of you. Besides, from the get-go you were about as territorial around the kid as a cave-man, so suffice it to say, it's been noticeable."

Derek cringed.

"Uh… I don't think there've been any… um...'lingering glances,'" he sputtered out.

"Look, call it what you want. I'm telling you I've been seeing it and I'm doing you this favor of talking to you about it now before everyone else on the team connects the dots," Rossi said shrugging again.

Derek felt his face grow hot. He had been so preoccupied thinking about whether he could or couldn't be with Spencer, that he hadn't devoted that much time to thinking about what would happen if the team found out. But now that Rossi had mentioned it, the idea had him panicking.

"What…uh… what does Hotch have to say about this?" he asked.

"Obviously Hotch knows something's up with you, and that for some reason this case is really getting to you. We've definitely talked about it. But he hasn't given me any impression that he thinks it's something…intimate. I believe he just thinks you're reacting particularly strongly to this case because of the kid's age and the circumstances he's had to deal with. Which, you know, we've seen with you before, especially with cases involving abused children. He's just concerned that you can't stay objective," Rossi explained.

Derek sighed.  _Thank God for small miracles_ , he thought to himself.

"And the rest of the team… Uh… do you think  _they_  think it's something 'intimate,'" Derek asked, almost unable to say the words.

"I wouldn't say the others have really noticed what I have. But I think that's only because each of them is reading into it what they want to see, and I think I'm the only person who's been looking at  _both_  of you at the same time. Emily and J.J. are really taken with Spencer, and have focused all their attention on  _him_. I think they're really dedicated to playing the protective role. And they see all the attention you've been giving him as coming from the same place as theirs, so I don't think they've been paying attention to how you've been looking at him. And, the same goes for Hotch. I don't think he's picked up on the non-platonic aspect of it because he has only been looking at  _you_. I'm pretty sure he hasn't yet been paying much attention to  _Spencer's_ gaze… So, for right now, I think you're safe when it comes to everyone else," Rossi said.

Derek let out a hefty sigh, heaving his shoulders in defeat.

"Look… I'm really  _trying_  here…" Derek admitted weakly. "It's not like I wanted to be involved in any of this. But, I just… I don't really know how to stay away from him."

Rossi chuckled.

"Derek, if you feel like you have to "try," then that already tells me that you feel  _something_  for the kid. If you didn't, it wouldn't be so hard to tell him no."

"I… haven't um… you know… _done_  anything with him," Derek said awkwardly, as he averted his eyes. He felt uncomfortable sharing this with the older profiler, but he also felt that it was imperative that Rossi understood he hadn't broken protocol.

Rossi laughed again.

"Derek, believe me, I  _know_  that. I wouldn't say I'm necessarily one for professionalism, so, honestly, if you  _had_ , I'd tell you it was an unwise decision, but I wouldn't think any less of you for it. But, I know you, and I know that acting on anything with this kid wouldn't even cross your mind while working on an active case," Rossi said, smiling good-naturedly at the younger man.

Derek nodded silently.

"So, come on, tell Uncle Rossi your troubles. What's been going on?" Rossi asked as he laid a hand on Derek's shoulder.

Derek rolled his eyes and shook the man's hand off. But, sighing, he turned and looked at Rossi seriously.

"The kid says he 'likes' me. You believe that? Even the way he says it sounds so innocent. I just… He's been through a lot, you know? And I can't tell if this is him mixing up feelings of gratitude with romantic feelings, or if this is actually something  _real_. I just feel like this is too fast and he's too young… I don't want him to make a mistake," Derek admitted.

Rossi's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You think  _you'd_  be a mistake?" he asked.

Derek shrugged and sighed.

"Well, what does Spencer get from going after me? I live across the country from him. I have a dangerous job that keeps me away from home most days out of the week and leaves no real time for a relationship. And I'm almost a decade older than him. What, at all, do we have in common?" he asked.

"Derek, all I hear is you thinking of reasons why it wouldn't work, but you haven't said much about how you actually feel about what's been developing here. Spencer's a pretty smart kid, so I'd bet my money on the fact that he's probably already thought about a lot of these issues and has made his peace with them. It seems like the kid's about ready to throw all caution to the wind. And so the question is whether  _you're_  willing to do that, as well. It's fine if you're not. But if that's the case, you gotta end this thing quick, and set the kid straight, before you both get too invested," Rossi said.

Derek was silent as he mulled over Rossi's words.

"Come on, let's head back," Rossi said as he patted Derek on the back and the two walked down the stairs.

* * *

When Derek and Rossi arrived back at the station, they walked into the conference room to find Hotch looking at his cellphone.

"Good work on bringing in Gavin Russell," Hotch said as he looked up. "We've got him waiting in the interrogation room."

"How's the kid?" Derek asked immediately, purposefully avoiding looking at Rossi.

"He's clearly shaken up, but he's trying to be helpful. He's still in with J.J. and Prentiss," Hotch said.

"Have they been able to get anything out of him?" Rossi asked.

Hotch shook his head in the negative.

"To be honest, I wasn't sure how useful a cognitive interview would be with him. Spencer has an impressive memory, so maybe there's a chance he could remember having told someone at some point about his favorite book. But, I kind of doubt it. More than anything else I just wanted a reason to get him out of the building while we investigated his neighbors," Hotch explained.

Derek and Rossi nodded their understanding.

"I also just got a text from Garcia, saying she wanted me to call her," Hotch said as he held up his phone which was already dialing.

"Hi, sir!" Garcia's voice came over the speaker.

"What do you have for us regarding that book?" Hotch asked.

"Well, as creepy as the circumstances surrounding the book are, it's actually kind of helpful that the Unsub sent that to Spencer," Garcia said.

"I don't see how more obsessive gifts, coupled with the fact that the Unsub has a  _key_  to Spencer's apartment, is helpful, baby girl," Derek said, as he frowned.

"It's helpful because it's a rare book. And I mean  _really_  rare. It's almost 150 years old. And from what I've been able to see on auction sites, something like that would go for  _thousands._  So, it's safe to say that it's not something that'll just pop up all over the place. I've currently got a search running to see if there were any sales made for the book in the last few weeks, with a particular focus on sellers in the Las Vegas area," Garcia said.

"But there's also the possibility that this book came from a private collection or could even have been owned by the Unsub himself, so there's no guarantee it will necessarily come up in any search as a 'sale.' So I also have some feelers out for lists of antiques and collectibles that are registered as parts of estates. I think we should definitely be able to narrow down where the book came from," she concluded.

"Good to hear. And how are you doing with that list of men that Spencer identified from the photo array earlier? Any progress?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, actually!" she said excitedly. "I was able to narrow the twelve men he identified down to ten. Credit card statements and flight records place two of them either out of the state or out of the country. And ten men is definitely easier to work with than what we started with. I still have a lot more background information to run on them before I can tell you anything that you can use definitively to give you enough probable cause to bring any of them in for questioning, but you better believe that I'm going to try my hardest to find  _something_. And soon."

"Ok, baby girl. And remember to narrow it down based on what people have been describing this guy to look like. He's around six-foot, likely somewhere between 170-190lbs. One of our witnesses said he probably had dark hair," Derek reminded her.

Garcia was quiet for a moment as the sound of quick typing came over the speaker.

"Thank you for that, stud muffin. That helped me filter out two more of the guys. Now we've got eight suspects ranging from 5'11 to 6'2, and 170-200lbs. All with dark hair," she said.

"Great, Garcia. Get to work. We'll be waiting to hear from you," Hotch said, and then disengaged the call.

The sound of the conference room door opening gained their attention and the three men turned to see J.J. and Emily walk in, followed by a reticent-looking Spencer. As J.J. and Emily walked over to Hotch to update him, Spencer lingered by the door. Seeing the boy standing off to the side, Derek approached him.

"Hey, kid. How're you doing?" Derek asked sympathetically.

Spencer looked up at him and forced a smile.

"I guess… alright? This has really been one crazy week, so I can't really say that having that guy in my apartment should really be a surprise, but it just… it feels so much more intrusive," Spencer said softly.

"That's totally understandable. A person's home is considered a sanctuary, and having someone invade that is completely unsettling," Derek said as he reached out and placed a comforting hand on Spencer's shoulder.

When the boy looked up and gave him a bright smile, Derek almost wanted to retract his hand. Touching Spencer had now become an instinctual thing. But Rossi's words were echoing in his ears. He hadn't yet figured out what 'signals' he wanted to be sending Spencer. But, he couldn't help but be encouraged by how happy Spencer looked at something as simple as a small touch. So he squeezed the boy's shoulder slightly.

"Let's head over and see if they need any more information from you before we finish for the night," Derek said as he led Spencer over to the rest of the team.

The other four members of the team turned as Derek and Spencer approached.

"It's getting really late," J.J. said as she glanced down at her watch.

She then looked at Hotch and signaled with her eyes to Spencer.

Hotch nodded at her and then cleared his throat.

"It's clear to me that we shouldn't let Spencer return back to his apartment until the Unsub has been apprehended," Hotch announced to the team, but his eyes were locked purposefully on the young man standing slightly behind Derek.

Spencer's eyes widened as he took in the man's words.

"The LVPD informed me that they have some rooms available here at the station, but they're more like holding cells. And, in any case, knowing how clever our Unsub is, I would feel safer if Spencer was with one of us at all times. So, he'll be coming back to the hotel with us, and we'll keep watch," Hotch explained.

Derek tensed upon hearing the news. His mind was screaming at him to volunteer to take Spencer for the night. But after having had to sit through Rossi's wise advice, on top of Hotch's poorly-veiled concern over whether he was becoming too personally involved in the case, Derek wasn't sure it would be smart to call any further attention to himself.

But, telling himself that he was looking at it completely 'objectively,' he was sure Spencer would feel most comfortable with him. Although the kid was obviously fond of J.J. and Emily, he wasn't quite sure how it would work out for Spencer to stay the night with either of them. And he couldn't even fathom what it would be like if either Rossi or Hotch were to be the ones sharing with Spencer. He knew that he was really the best choice. But, Derek decided he would follow whatever his unit-leader decided. Any of them were more than capable of protecting Spencer for the night. And what was most important was Spencer's safety.

As Derek was still lost in his musings, Spencer glanced up at him, having seen him go rigid upon hearing his supervisor's words. Not knowing why the older man was clenching his jaw so fiercely, but knowing that if he had to be forced to stay with one of the agents, the only one he would want to stay with would be Derek, Spencer spoke up.

"I-I want to go with Agent Morgan," he volunteered.

Hotch looked at the young man, silently appraising him for a few seconds. He then nodded.

"Okay, if that's where you'll feel the most comfortable," Hotch agreed.

Derek turned around and threw Spencer a wide grin, causing the boy to blush.

"Let's head out," Hotch ordered.

* * *

A/N: Ok! So, there we have it! Another chapter down. Next chapter, Spencer and Derek will be shacking up! (Hahaha, I always make things sound more scandalous than they really are—you should know by now that I'm just an epic tease ;p). We  _are_  heading to the end of the story, though, so you never know what I'll decide to throw in here!

As always, thanks for reading and please let me know your thoughts! I love hearing from you guys and really appreciate your comments. See you next time!

xoxo


	11. Chapter Eleven

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. It is the sole property of the CBS Corporation. This work of fiction has been created purely for entertainment purposes and I am profiting in no way.

A/N: Another Wednesday, yet, unfortunately, no new episode of Criminal Minds on today :{. Oh, well, you  _do_ get a new chapter :D. But how crazy is it that I mentioned Spencer knowing Russian in the last chapter and the new episode of CMs that aired that night had him  _speaking_ Russian? O.O (And, omg, can we talk about  _MGG_  speaking Russian? I never knew I found something like that sexy until that man did it ;p haha). Anywho, thanks as always for the reviews and favorites, and to my beta-reader Eskimita! I really appreciate how everyone has stuck with me during this crazy little ride! But, as I said, we're nearing the end.

So, I think this is a bit of an action-packed chapter (I almost said 'episode,' haha!) and I hope you'll enjoy it. I'm a dialogue-driven writer (if that wasn't readily apparent :p), so when I started this story I never thought I'd write nearly as much 'action' as I ultimately ended up doing, but it's kind of fun! And, oh boy, this Unsub is all kinds of crazy! Sometimes even  _I'm_  kind of shocked by what I make this guy do. So, have fun reading this chapter. I've also thrown in quite a lot of 'feels' for you guys as well. So there should be something for everyone! :D

xoxo

* * *

Walking into his hotel room, after having showed Spencer in first, Derek turned to lock and bolt the door. When he turned back around, he was met with the insistent hands of Spencer Reid. Derek's eyes widened as Spencer grabbed him, fisting his hands in his shirt, and pressed his lips against his.

Maneuvering him by the grip on his shirt, Spencer backed him up until his legs hit the seat of the arm chair, and Derek felt himself toppling down with Spencer on top of him. Their lips parted briefly and Spencer quickly shimmied his way into Derek's lap, positioning his knees on either side of Derek's hips. Before Derek knew it, Spencer's arms were locked behind his head, and he was pressing his soft lips against Derek's again.

Derek lost himself to the feel of Spencer's lips on his own, finding that he didn't have the will to fight against him anymore. In fact, all he really wanted to do was indulge. And he was going to let himself. He wrapped one arm around Spencer's waist and, with the other, he grabbed the back of Spencer's head, tangling his hand in the boy's hair, tugging as he kissed Spencer back. Hard.

Spencer moaned against Derek's lips, thrilled that the older man had finally decided to respond. He opened his mouth, tentatively licking at Derek's lips, and was rewarded with the feel of Derek's tongue against his own. Leaning forward, Derek took control of the kiss, pressing his tongue into Spencer's mouth, his head becoming heady with the taste of the boy and the sounds he was making.

Trembling with excitement, and encouraged by Derek's reaction, Spencer hurriedly moved his hand into Derek's lap, rubbing the older man through his jeans. Derek groaned loudly at the sensation, bucking his hips upward unconsciously. But the jolt of pleasure was enough to drag Derek out of his haze.

"Shit, shit, shit," he panted out as he pulled his face away from Spencer's and firmly grabbed the boy's exploring hand by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "Kid, what the hell are you doing?"

Spencer groaned in frustration and quickly moved his other hand to the buckle of Derek's jeans, making his intention obvious. Derek growled at him, in warning, and grabbed his other hand. Transferring both of Spencer's thin wrists to his one hand, he raised them above the boy's head, effectively putting a halt to his exploration.

"This… this arrangement is just going to be about  _sleep_ , Spencer," Derek said seriously, catching Spencer's eyes with his own. "I shouldn't even have kissed you. I'm here to protect you, ok? I can't do that if you're... Just… Kid, it  _has_  to stop."

"Why do you think you can't protect me and kiss me at the same time?" Spencer asked dismissively, as he struggled to free himself from Derek's strong grip.

Derek gritted his teeth as the boy squirmed, not currently appreciating the added friction in his lap as he was trying to have a rational conversation with the very enticing boy sitting on top of him.

"You… I can't do my job with you distracting me like this, alright? Look, the minute my guard is down, that's the minute this son of a bitch can get by me and get to you. And I'm not willing to let that happen. So as long as this guy's out there, this…this… _whatever_  this is isn't going to go any further," Derek said as he used his free hand to gently push Spencer back and off his lap.

As Spencer got to his feet, Derek stood with him, still holding the boy's hands locked together in his grip, as if he didn't trust Spencer to keep his hands to himself if he let him go.

"I-It's ok if we do it, Derek," Spencer said as he looked into Derek's eyes. "I  _want_  to."

Derek sighed as he finally released the grip on Spencer's wrists and took a step back to leave some distance between them.

Derek was no shrink, but he definitely thought there was something wrong about Spencer's insistence on physicality. If he had to take a guess, he would say Spencer was experiencing a mix of lack of self-worth, which most likely resulted from being treated like an object and forced to experience many things he probably didn't want to, and the belief that he could somehow erase that disgust with himself by sleeping with the first person who cared about him outside of his role as a sex object. Derek feared Spencer was conflating the two, and he really didn't want the boy to do anything rash and then later regret it when he realized it didn't make him feel any better about himself. But this was only Derek's guess, and the only way he would know for sure was to  _ask_.

"What do you think of yourself, Spencer? Huh? What do you really think of 'Spencer Reid?'" he asked, looking at Spencer carefully.

Spencer blinked in surprise, taken aback by the question. But then his eyes became dark, and he gave Derek a guarded look.

"Why would you ask me something like that? What's the point? Who  _cares_?" Spencer asked.

"That's  _exactly_  my point," Derek snapped at him. "It's exactly because I don't think you care that I have to ask you that! What do you  _see_  when you look at yourself, Spencer?"

Spencer turned to glare at him, eyes flashing with anger.

"What do you want me to say, huh?" Spencer snapped back. "I don't  _want_  to look at myself, ok!? What I see is disgusting! Did that make you happy to hear me say that?"

"Of course not! But that's what I'm talking about! You look at Spencer Reid, and you're disgusted by what you see. When I look at you, I don't see any of that, kid. I see so much worth. And it's exactly because you  _don't_  see that, that I can't do this with you," Derek said, as he shook his head.

Spencer stared at him in shock, blinking as if he hadn't thought someone could say something like that about him. He then looked away from Derek as he ran his hand through his hair anxiously.

"When…whenever people looked at me, they never saw  _me_. Even before my… uh… 'fall from grace,' I was always just seen as the 'genius.' This weird, alien-like being who people oohed and ahh-ed over, but no one ever…no one ever really tried to get to know  _me_. A-and now…working at the club, people want to look at my body, but they stare right through me. You… when I'm with you, I feel like a real person. You're actually talking to  _me_. You actually look at  _me_. You don't ignore me. You talk to me like I'm any other regular person. Whether I'm a genius or a stripper," Spencer rushed out in a jumble of words and emotions.

He then paused, and took a deep breath. But his eyes were cast downward, as if he were too ashamed to look at Derek.

"And, out of all things—the one thing I  _don't_  want is for you to look at me like I'm damaged goods. Like I'm some fragile, broken thing you have to treat with kid gloves…a-and put on some shelf, because I'm too delicate to touch," Spencer whispered softly.

Seeing Spencer's hunched shoulders and withdrawn appearance, all Derek wanted to do was reach out and touch him. But, he knew that would feed exactly into what Spencer had accused him of. He couldn't help but want to treat Spencer gently, though. No one had done so in so long, and if the kid deserved  _anything_ , it was gentleness.

"I don't look at you like that," was all Derek could say.

"But you  _do_ ," Spencer said as he looked up, giving the man a sad smile.

"Kid, listen to me. The one thing you're definitely  _not_  is 'damaged goods.' Nothing's wrong with you. Not one single thing. In actuality, you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met. But, that doesn't change the fact that bad things happened to you. And they affected the way you see yourself," Derek said.

He watched as Spencer rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, giving the obvious impression that he did  _not_  want to go down that road.

"Spencer, I'm not going to help you destroy yourself," Derek said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him.

Spencer watched him warily for a moment, but then slowly moved to sit down beside him.

"If you hate yourself," Derek continued, "how can you even begin to attempt to say you can care about another human being? I'd rather you work on loving yourself first, kid."

Spencer flinched at Derek's words and sat for a moment, seeming to really be thinking about it.

"I… I don't 'hate' myself," Spencer whispered after a moment. "I'm just… not proud of what I've become. But, I guess both parts of my life have… taught me something."

Derek sat quietly as Spencer chewed on his lip and played with his hands which were lying in his lap.

"Um… Before I started this job, I guess you could say I was really sheltered. I didn't know a lot of things… I hadn't  _seen_ a lot of things. I… You know, I had never said the word 'fuck' before I started this? And now I say it twenty times a day without blinking," Spencer said with a mocking laugh. "I learned how to be strong… how to do things for myself, and I learned what people were really like. In a way, even though I had always been 'smart,' I learned that I wasn't as smart as I thought I was when it came to real life. So… now I can say I'm not some weak, naïve little kid anymore."

Derek stared at him, unsure if he should say something. But then Spencer sighed, getting a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was thinking of a fond memory.

"And… you know things weren't great for me when I was younger either, but… I really did like learning. A lot. And I liked reading. And it was fun that if I… if I really wanted to know anything—absolutely anything—I could just pick up a book and I could teach it to myself. Wh-when I was in college one of my majors was in engineering and I really liked that I could create anything I put my mind to. When I was young, I was ashamed of being different and of standing out as the 'weird kid,'" Spencer admitted.

"But, once I got to college, it was like I was finally in a place where that was  _embraced_ , rather than discouraged. I mean, of course I still got picked on—I was a 12 year old freshman," Spencer said as he laughed ruefully. "But… it was just great to be in that environment, with the professors and other people who actually thought like me. So… I had kind of started to learn to l-like myself then."

"That's great to hear," Derek said giving him a genuine smile.

"But, you said you're not proud of yourself right now. Is it because you think you'll never be able to get any of that back?" he asked Spencer, giving him a serious look.

But the boy wouldn't meet his eyes. He shrugged as he continued to look down at his hands.

"You're  _nineteen_ , kid," Derek said as he put his hand on Spencer's shoulder and squeezed softly. "And, you're a genius. There's no reason why that door has to be closed off to you. You're going to do so many great things. And even if you might not be happy with your situation right now, there's no reason to be ashamed of it. It doesn't define you as a person. All those things about you that make you great are still there. They never went away."

Spencer could think of a number of reasons why Derek's positive outlook wasn't realistic for him. The foremost of which was the fact that he just didn't have the means of taking care of his mother if he didn't work. Even  _if_  he was somehow given the opportunity to abandon working at  _Mon Petit Chien_  and could go back to school, he would never take it if it meant his mother couldn't continue staying at Bennington. He promised himself he would always give her the best, even if it meant he had to live a life he was so unhappy with. So, while Derek's words were sweet and did, to an extent, help to make him feel better about himself, Spencer knew it was just wishful thinking. But he smiled encouragingly at Derek anyway. He wanted the older man to know he appreciated his effort.

Derek smiled back at him and squeezed his shoulder again, reassuringly.

"Don't think for a second you have to carry all your doubts and worries alone. I know there's a lot of stuff going on in that head of yours. If you want to talk to me, you know I'm here for you, ok?" Derek asked.

Spencer nodded at him.

"Ok, then. For the time being, we really should try to get some sleep," Derek said as he glanced at the bedside table. The glowing clock read 3:15 a.m.

"You take the bed," he offered as he stood and stretched, feeling the tension leaving his shoulders.

Spencer got to his feet and glanced behind him at the King-sized bed, making a face of confusion.

"Are you kidding me? There's no reason we can't share. And, besides, where are you going to sleep?" he asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

The room was large and nicely-appointed with two armchairs and a desk, but there were no couches or any comfortable surfaces to sleep on.

"I'll be fine here on the floor," Derek responded.

Spencer frowned.

"Derek, I hate this. I don't want you to have to do that. Just let  _me_  sleep on the floor… Or, I think I could probably even just sleep in the armchair. I'm pretty flexible and tend to sleep in a ball anyway," Spencer said.

Derek chuckled slightly at the boy's ridiculous offer.

"No, kid. Believe me, I'll be fine," he said.

Spencer still stood there looking uncomfortable.

"Please… can we just share the bed? I feel bad enough having to make you guys put me up in your hotel. I… I really won't be able to sleep if I know you're going to have to take the floor," Spencer said, looking at Derek with pleading eyes.

Derek stared at the younger male, contemplating his options. He really didn't think it was a good idea, especially when it came to Spencer's recent batting record when the two were within touching distance. And, Derek wasn't sure if, lying in a bed with the boy, he'd put up all that much of a fight if Spencer  _did_ decide to try something. Still looking at the boy, he noticed Spencer's cheeks begin to redden, and wondered if the boy could somehow read his thoughts.

"I… I promise I won't try anything," Spencer muttered out, training his eyes on the floor.

Derek let out a sigh, feeling sympathetic to Spencer's discomfort. He then walked over to the right side of the bed.

"I'm serious about what I said before, kid," he said as he grabbed a corner of the sheet and tugged it down. "I'm gonna agree to sharing but… you gotta keep your hands to yourself. Stay on your side of the bed and… no hogging the covers."

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, and then he almost had to hold back a laugh.

"O-ok," he said with a grin.

Derek tossed him a small smile.

"Alright, then. Let's get changed and try to get as much sleep as we can," Derek said as he glanced at the clock again. He really had been running on empty these last few days and he was definitely looking forward to at least four to five good hours of sleep. Plus, he thought decidedly, he probably would sleep a lot better with Spencer in the room because he would be able to relax knowing the boy was finally as safe as he could be.

"I… um… I don't have any of my things," Spencer said, drawing Derek out of his thoughts.

He was still wearing what he had left work with earlier, which was a dark blue cardigan, t-shirt and jeans.

"Oh, yeah," Derek said, as he sighed. "We didn't stop back over to your apartment to pick up a change of clothes for you. Look, kid, since we don't have very many options, I can just let you wear some of my stuff. If you don't mind?"

Spencer's face heated at the thought of wearing the older man's clothes. He didn't know why the thought of it made him feel bashful and excited at the same time.

"I-I don't mind," Spencer said as he looked down at his feet.

He listened as Derek began rustling around in his go-bag, and then a folded up set of clothes came into Spencer's line of view.

"You can change in the bathroom, and I'll change out here," Derek said as he pointed Spencer towards the closed bathroom door.

"Ok," Spencer said as he crossed his arms over the bundle of clothes and pressed them to his chest. As he turned to head into the bathroom, he couldn't help but to inhale deeply. The clothes smelled like Derek's woodsy cologne and it made his stomach do a flip. Smiling to himself, Spencer hurried into the bathroom.

About ten minutes later, he stepped back into the room, noticing that Derek was already sitting in the bed and had turned out all the lights except for one of the bedside table lamps. He thought the older man looked so handsome in the dim light, and he felt that squirmy feeling return to his stomach. Swallowing down the distracting feelings, Spencer coughed lightly to alert Derek to his presence. When Derek looked up, he had to hold back a chuckle. Spencer's thin body was swimming in Derek's oversized clothes. Spencer blushed as he pulled up the baggy pants, thankful that it had a drawstring.

Looking him over, Derek couldn't deny that Spencer looked adorable in the clothing, but there was also something about seeing the younger man in his clothes that triggered something primal in Derek. He hadn't thought he'd _like_  seeing Spencer in his clothes as much as he did.

"We really gotta get some meat on your bones, kid," Derek said, hoping to distract himself by teasing the boy.

Spencer rolled his eyes at Derek's comment and let out an irritated sigh as he walked toward the bed

"I'm  _naturally_  thin, thank you very much," he said as he grabbed an edge of the comforter and pulled it back. He then slipped under the cover, turning his back to Derek.

Derek laughed in response to Spencer's statement.

"Whatever you say, kid. Sleep tight," Derek said as he turned over and shut the light off.

As the room plunged into darkness, and Derek shifted, getting comfortable, Spencer smiled to himself. It was nice having Derek so close to him. He felt safe for the first time in a long time, and he quickly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Derek opened his eyes about an hour later, he immediately knew that something was off. Blinking groggily, he looked towards the bedside table but could not see the red display coming from the alarm clock. Frowning, he glanced to his right and was relieved to see the outline of the curled up form of Spencer lying with his back to him at the far end of the bed. The boy had kept true to his word and hadn't moved from his spot.

Derek actually realized that he, himself, had been the one to move, as he was closer to Spencer than he had been when he had shut the lights off. It wasn't necessarily a surprise. Many of his past lovers had told him he was a 'smotherer' when he shared beds with them, and would often end up with his arms and legs wrapped around the other person. He always told them that it was because he was used to sleeping alone and liked to take up the whole bed. They would always tease him and tell him that he was just a subconscious cuddler. He was at least grateful that he hadn't made it all the way over to where Spencer was lying and that there was still about a foot between him and the boy's sleeping form.

Turning away from the boy and trying to get a grasp on what had caused him to wake up in the first place, Derek looked towards the door at the far end of the hotel room. He noticed that he could not see the bright yellow light under the door that usually illuminated the hotel corridor. Instead, there was a dim, flashing red light. He immediately knew that that was an emergency light.

_Power outage_? He wondered to himself. That made sense, going off of the fact that the clock had also been out.

Eyebrows furrowing with the beginning inklings of worry, he turned to his side and blindly reached out for his cellphone which was on the bedside table. Once his hand closed around it, he pressed the screen and saw that the display read 4:23 in the morning. He also saw no messages or calls from his teammates. So, if there was a power outage, it was likely it was something run of the mill and not suspicious as he had first thought. Dropping the phone back on to the table, Derek almost closed his eyes, wanting to succumb to sleep again, when he heard a soft shuffling at the door.

Shooting up into a sitting positon, Derek's eyes zeroed in on the space underneath the doorway and his breath caught as he saw a dark shadow interrupt the red light that was pouring in from under the doorway. It appeared to be someone's  _feet._ Immediately swinging into action, Derek shoved his hand underneath his pillow and retrieved his service weapon. His ears picked up the sound of someone slowly manipulating the door handle, attempting to open the door, but the door remained locked.

Eyes narrowing in anger at the thought that someone was actually trying to break into his room, Derek smoothly rolled over towards Spencer, getting as close as he could, and slipped his hand over the boy's mouth. Spencer awoke with a start almost as soon as he touched him, and Derek clamped his hand down harder to prevent any sounds from escaping.

"Shh, shh," Derek soothed as quietly as he could as he looked into the boy's wild eyes. It was dark in the room, but he could see that Spencer recognized him and relaxed slightly. The boy was breathing quickly and his eyes looked at him questioningly.

"I need you to listen to me very carefully," Derek whispered, and waited as Spencer nodded.

"We need to get up, and I need you to follow everything I say, ok? There's someone trying to break in to the room," Derek said and watched as Spencer's eyes almost doubled in size. "I don't know what they want or who they are, but you need to be very quiet and let me handle this, ok?"

Spencer nodded rapidly and Derek pulled his hand back. He could tell Spencer was terrified, and helped the shaking boy get to his feet. Derek was aware of the sound of the handle being pulled again, but still the person was denied access. He quickly grabbed his phone off the bedside table and ushered Spencer into the corner of the room furthest from the door. He placed the boy behind him, standing between Spencer and the door. As Derek swiped his phone's screen with one hand, and held his gun trained on the door with the other, he could feel Spencer grip his shirt tightly from behind him. Spencer was scared and all Derek wanted to do was comfort him, but for right now, time was of the essence.

Derek quickly shot off a group text to his colleagues, hoping that someone else was awake. He didn't want to draw the attention of the person trying to get into his room. At the moment, Derek had the element of surprise since he was sure the person outside the door thought the occupants were still asleep. If they did manage to get into the room, Derek would be able to see them better, illuminated by the light outside and would likely get in the first shot. This was also the safer option because he had no idea if the person had a gun. If he called out and alerted the person, he might start firing and there was no telling where the bullets would go. He had to protect Spencer, which tempered his willingness to be his usual reckless, kicking-down-doors self. As of now, Derek knew he had the tactical advantage and he wanted to keep it that way.

* * *

J.J. turned over fitfully in her sleep, trying to get comfortable. As she rolled on to her side, she squinted in confusion when she saw her cellphone flashing. Frowning, she picked up the phone, her eyes widening at the message she saw:

_Power out in hotel; someone at door trying to get in; possibly Unsub_.

Without waiting a second, J.J. jumped out of bed, grabbing her gun, and rushed towards the door. Poking her head out and staring down the darkened hallway, she could make out a figure in black standing in front of Derek's door. It appeared the person was doing something with the key card slot, but the dim, flashing red light made it difficult to make out any details. All the agents' rooms were spread out on the hall, and while Derek's room was about seven doors down from hers, J.J. was still the closest.

She began to creep from her room, but as she stepped out of the doorway, the room-door clicked shut behind her, punctuating the silence in the hallway, and gaining the attention of the mysterious man. He quickly turned towards her and J.J.'s eyes widened as she saw him raise a gun. She just had enough time to hit the ground as three shots were fired into the wall near where she had just been standing. She covered her head in a protective gesture, but was aware of the sound of the man running down the opposite end of the hallway. Lying flat on her stomach, she tried to aim at the retreating figure but it was too dark to get a clear shot, and she wasn't going to risk it knowing that there were so many hotel rooms lining the hallway.

Pushing herself to her hands and knees, and getting ready to take off after the running man, she heard the thundering sound of feet approaching. Looking behind her, she came face to face with Hotch, who had a serious expression on his face and his gun out.

"Unsub! And he has a gun!" J.J. said as she pointed down the hallway and began running.

As Hotch turned to follow her, he could see the door to the stairwell at the end of the hallway swinging shut, indicating that the man had had a head start. The two began to pursue, as the sounds of doors opening around them echoed through the hallway. Concerned and confused hotel guests began to poke their heads out.

"Everyone get back in your rooms!" Hotch bellowed as he ran past the surprised guests. "Federal investigation! For your safety, stay in your room at all costs!"

As J.J. made it to the end of the hallway and pushed the door to the stairway open, she realized too late that the Unsub  _hadn't_  taken the opportunity to get a head start as they had assumed. Instead, he was lying in wait and when she opened the door his arm shot out, in a clothesline fashion, causing her to be blindsided by the force of it as it caught her in the face. Crying out in shock, J.J. was thrown backward and crashed into Hotch who was only a few inches behind her.

As the two tumbled to the ground, they could hear the Unsub's feet hitting the stone steps as he took advantage of the time to run down the stairs. Hotch immediately went to J.J.'s aid, trying to see if she was alright. He looked up as Rossi, who had also exited his room and had been a few feet behind them in the commotion, ran up to their sides. Both men tried to help the injured woman to her feet, but she twisted out of their grasp.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" J.J. yelled, as she held a hand to her nose, which was already bleeding profusely. "J-just go after him!  _Don't_ let him get away."

Looking at each other resolutely, Hotch and Rossi nodded and got to their feet, running after the fleeing man.

* * *

As Derek listened to the commotion that was going on outside, his whole body tensed to spring into action, all he wanted to do was get out there and join his teammates. And after he heard the shots fired, and J.J and Hotch's voices, he knew he couldn't stand there any longer. He began to move away from his position when he felt Spencer's grip on him tighten.

"Kid, I gotta go out there and help them," Derek said as he tried to turn around to look at Spencer. The room was still so dark he could barely see the boy, but Spencer's head was bowed and pressed against Derek's back, body shaking like a leaf. He seemed like he really didn't want to let him go.

Derek quickly thought about what would be the best plan of action. On one hand, he needed to go out there and help his team. If it really was the Unsub, this was probably their best chance to catch the man and he didn't want to lose the opportunity to personally take him down. He knew he could probably tell Spencer to go into the bathroom and lock himself in there. He had a backup weapon in his bag and he could give that to Spencer to protect himself. On the other hand, the thought of leaving the room and leaving  _no_ one to watch over Spencer made Derek's stomach twist into knots. The Unsub was crafty and Derek feared the possibility that this could be some kind of ruse. If all the agents were out there pursuing the man, what was to stop someone else from doubling back and taking off with Spencer?

But he didn't have much time to think about these options. Derek tensed and trained his gun on the room's only entry-point as he heard footsteps run up to the door. Eyes narrowing in anger, he wondered if there really was a second person coming to try to break in.

_Well, let them come_ , Derek thought with determination. There was no way anyone was going to get to Spencer. They would have to go through  _him_  first.

"Morgan! Open up," he heard a voice call as someone pounded on his door.

Recognizing it as Emily's, the tension drained from his shoulders and Derek quickly moved away from the corner. Spencer seemed more willing to let him go after having heard the familiar voice of the dark-haired agent. But he stuck close to Derek.

As Derek opened the door, Emily hurriedly walked in, eyes wide as she shone a flashlight into the room.

"Everyone ok?" she asked worriedly, scanning the beam over Derek and Spencer's faces.

"Yeah, we're good. What's going on out there?" Derek asked, hurriedly.

"Well, I think I was the last on the scene. I haven't seen J.J., Hotch or Rossi, but I definitely heard the gunshots. I tried all their cells but no one's answered, so I decided I'd check in on you guys," she explained.

She then opened her hand, showing them that he was clutching something.

"Plus, I found this on the floor outside your door," she said, shining the light downward.

Spencer and Derek leaned in to look at the strange item. It was a small, silver electronic device attached by wires to a plastic card.

"I think it's a key-card reader," Emily explained. "It's an electronic device that uses a generic key card to spoof an actual key. These wires scan the lock and the device generates the digital signature accepted by that particular lock. But it can take quite a few tries before it'll generate the right one."

Derek frowned. That explained why the person had tried the lock a number of times but was unable to gain access. If he hadn't woken up when he did, it was very likely that the man could have gained access to the room, through trial and error while he and Spencer slept. He shuddered at the thought.

"But… it's really ballsy for someone to try to break into an FBI Agent's room," Emily said in amazement.

"We're likely dealing with the Unsub," Derek muttered, and Emily nodded her agreement.

"I have no idea where everyone else is, but I'm going to call the front desk and see what they can do about these lights. We are at a sore disadvantage if everyone's running around in the dark," Emily said as she fished out her cellphone.

But, before she could dial, the lights all flashed back on, and everyone in the room blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the brightness.

"Well, I'm guessing someone else on the hall called. The gunshots, on top of hearing Hotch screaming 'federal investigation,' probably got a lot of the guests worried. I'm sure security will be coming up to the floor soon," Derek said.

Emily nodded and then frowned as she began dialing another number.

"Speaking of Hotch," she said as she looked up at Derek. "We really need to get an update from them."

Spencer and Derek waited as the phone rang, but after five rings it went to voicemail. Hotch wasn't picking up.

"I'm worried," Emily said. "We may need to go out and try to find them."

Derek nodded, looking over to Spencer who was standing off to the side, with his arms wrapped around himself. He still didn't know what to do about the boy. They couldn't exactly take him with them as they canvassed the area, especially when pursuing an Unsub who had a gun. There was too much of a danger that he could be injured.

His musings were interrupted by a sudden, loud knock at the door and Emily got up to answer it, gun held at her side. Derek also raised his gun, and pushed Spencer to stand behind him.

"It's J.J!" Emily said, gasping as she stepped away from the peephole and opened the door to let the blonde woman in.

Upon seeing J.J., Derek could understand Emily's surprise.

" _Shit_ , J.J.!" Derek exclaimed.

The blonde woman was standing there, breathing heavily, with blood staining her upper lip and chin. They could see that the blood had stained her shirt as well. And the area around her left eye was already darkening into an ugly bruise. She looked like she had just been through hell and back, and she looked  _furious_.

"What  _happened_  to you? Are you alright?" Emily asked, worriedly.

J.J. shook her head as she looked at the occupants of the room.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Seriously, it probably looks worse than it feels. The freaking Unsub was waiting for us on the other side of the door when we chased him and he clothes-lined me. I ran straight into it," she said with frustration. "Hotch and Rossi were with me, but I had to let them go on ahead since I was stunned for a bit once I hit the ground."

She walked further into the room and slumped down into one of the armchairs, cradling her face in her hand.

"I ran after them once my head stopped spinning. It felt like less than a minute had passed, but by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs and into the parking lot, they were nowhere to be found. I forgot my phone in my room, so all I could think of to do was to run back up here to check on you guys," she explained.

"But, J.J., your  _face_ ," Spencer said in shock as he walked over to her. "That looks really bad."

Looking up at the worried teen, J.J. smiled at him.

"Don't worry. Seriously, it barely hurts. I'll be absolutely fine, Spencer," she said, reassuringly.

"Do you think it's broken?" Emily asked, as she grimaced.

"Nah, I've been poking at it and it feels ok. I think I just need some ice," J.J. said. "Has anyone heard from Hotch or Rossi yet?"

"Nope, I've been trying their cells but no one's been answering," Emily said.

J.J. sighed.

"I really hope they catch that guy. I can't  _believe_  he would have the audacity to break into our hotel," she said with anger.

Emily's phone began ringing and she let out a sigh of relief as she saw who the caller was.

"It's Hotch, everyone," she announced as she engaged the call and put it on speaker.

"Prentiss," Hotch said, voice sounding a bit winded. "Where is everybody? Were you able to meet up with Morgan and Spencer? And is everyone safe?"

"Yes, everyone's here and they're fine. J.J.'s with us as well," Emily informed.

"What about the Unsub?" J.J. asked quickly as she got up and walked closer to the phone.

"No luck," Hotch said, frustration evident in his tone. "He already had a head start once Rossi and I got down the stairs, but we were able to follow him into the parking lot and out onto the street. We couldn't get any shots off because there were pedestrians around and I think he purposefully led us on to the Strip. We ended up losing him in the crowds."

"Dammit!" Derek said as he began pacing the room.

"Rossi and I are going to go meet with the hotel security to try to figure out how the hell this man was able to orchestrate this. If we're lucky maybe we can get him on the surveillance cameras. Then I want us all to reconvene at the precinct. This is the last straw. There's no way we're letting this guy slip through our fingers again," Hotch said tersely.

The three agents exchanged glances as they listened to the anger in their superior's voice.

"Sure thing, Hotch," Emily said. "We'll get ready to leave."

* * *

A few hours later, Hotch, Rossi, Emily and Derek sat around the conference table somberly going over the information they had been able to gather regarding the Unsub's attempt to infiltrate their hotel. Spencer was sleeping in one of the precinct's overnight rooms, while a uniformed officer stood watch outside the door. J.J. was also taking the time to rest, with an icepack and some pain killers, after she had been inspected by a medic. Luckily, her nose wasn't broken but her face would be tender for a few days.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Derek pushed back from the table and rose to his feet. He walked over to the side table where the LVPD had kindly provided the agents a full pot of coffee to facilitate their early-morning meeting. As he began to re-fill his cup, the conversation at the table continued.

"I was able to get some more information on that device you guys found, and Emily was right, it's something used to hack key-card doors," Garcia's voice came over the speaker. "It's not as highly sophisticated as some I've seen, but on average it would take between 10-15 tries before the scanner would come up with the right digital signature. This model could easily be bought online for around $200."

Emily sighed her frustration.

"Well, it's a good thing our guy didn't get the chance to try all the right combinations. How lucky were we that Derek woke up when he did?" she asked

The other people in the room murmured their agreement. It really  _had_  just been chance that Derek had awoken when he had. If he had still been asleep, the Unsub could have easily taken him out with a bullet to the temple. Or, even if Derek had awoken immediately after the man had entered the room, the Unsub would have still had the upper hand on him. There was no way to know if Derek could have gotten to his gun, and still protected Spencer, before the man incapacitated him. Things could have gone very badly.

Sitting back down at the table, Derek mulled over the information with a dark expression on his face He really didn't want to think in terms of 'what ifs' or 'luck.' He had had enough of that. They needed to catch this guy and they needed to catch him  _now_.

"So,  _that's_  great," Derek said. "We have yet another dead-end with this guy. Added to the fact that ballistics said the bullets they pulled out of the wall after he tried to  _shoot_  J.J. came from an unregistered gun, we literally have  _shit_."

The other agents glanced at their frustrated colleague, but could say nothing to calm him down. What he had said was true. Every time they thought they had a viable lead, they were met with a brick wall.

"Garcia, any luck on cleaning up those images from the surveillance camera?" Hotch asked, hoping for a better result.

When Hotch and Rossi had met with the hotel security staff, they were disappointed to find out that the power outage had also, conveniently, cut power to the security cameras. Apparently, the hotel's power was controlled by a computer system and the Unsub had been able to orchestrate it so that the only floor that lost full power was the floor the agents, and Spencer, were staying on. Thus the security staff hadn't even been aware there was a problem on the floor until  _after_  guests had started calling following the gunfire. The most recent footage that was available was of an hour before the power outage, and it contained everyone who entered the building from all entry-points. Unfortunately, it was too much footage for the team to parse through on their own. So, Hotch had had the security team send the footage to Garcia and asked her to use her facial recognition software to give them an advantage.

"I think I do have something for you, but you're not going to be too happy with it," Garcia said. "I'm sending it to all your devices."

Derek pulled out his phone and looked at the image that appeared in the attachment. His face darkened as he took in the picture. It showed a tall man, dressed from head to toe in black, just like he remembered the Unsub from the other night when the man had tried to run him down. The man in the image was wearing a black cap under a black sweatshirt hood, accompanied by a pair of dark sunglasses. What stood out most to Derek and made his blood boil, however, was that the man was grinning. As if he  _knew_  the camera was recording and he wanted to pose for it.

"He's purposefully disguising his most identifiable features, so it's not much to go on. But we can see his nose and mouth. See if any of those features match up with the images we have from our list of suspects," Hotch said as he placed his phone down.

"How did he get in, Garcia?" Emily asked.

"It seems he came in through the parking deck. Like, he literally just  _walked_  in, and took one of the staircases up. Hotel security, on average, is usually very sparse. There's no way to know who's a guest or not, and it's common for random people to just walk in and out. It's not surprising that no one stopped him. And I only have him on a few of the cameras, so I'm thinking he really knew how to stay off their radar. The last image I have of him is him walking through the lobby with his back to the camera. Then he disappeared for about 15 minutes before the power went out," Garcia said.

"What would someone have to know to be able to work that power grid system so that only one floor would lose power?" Rossi asked.

"Well, it depends. I mean,  _I_  could do it with no problem but… well, you know, I'm kind of a hacker-extraordinaire. I wouldn't say it's too complicated if you know what you're doing. But it's also way easier if someone tells you how to do it," she explained.

"So, are we thinking maybe this was an inside job?" Emily asked as her brows furrowed.

Hotch sighed.

"Possibly. Knowing our Unsub, he probably paid someone to give him the access or to do it for him," he said.

"How many people are on staff?" Derek asked.

"Well, all together there are about 63 people on payroll, and 18 who were on staff last night," Hotch said as he glanced at the list in front of him. "But the men specifically from the security staff that Rossi and I spoke to seemed to all be genuinely surprised by the security breach. So I think we can rule the 6 of them out."

"So, should we interview those who were off-duty?" Emily asked.

"I honestly don't think we'll get very far if we do. Similar to Spencer's neighbor, Gavin Russell, who said the Unsub was good at diverting his attention, I think the best we'll get from whoever agreed to help him with shutting down the power at the hotel is that he was an average-looking White male. Even if the Unsub needed to recruit outside help to execute his plan he would never let anyone get any identifiable information that could be used against him. Our profile says he's too smart for that," Hotch said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, his tiredness apparent.

"He's obviously mocking us," Rossi agreed as he stared down at the picture on his phone. "He basically stopped to smile at the camera."

"Agent Hotchner," a female officer said as she hurriedly walked into the room. "You have a call on line 2. The man refuses to speak to anyone else but you, and says that you've been expecting his call."

All the agents in the room stiffened at the information. There was no way anyone who needed to speak to Hotch would call him at the LVPD. It had to be the Unsub.

"Thank you, I'll take the call. Please patch it through," Hotch said calmly.

The woman nodded and then rushed back out the room.

"Garcia, did you hear that?" Hotch asked quickly.

"Yes, sir. Trap and trace, I'm on it," she said, as the sound of typing flooded the room.

A few seconds later, Garcia cursed.

"I… I can't get anything. I'm still getting a lot of the distorted signal. Whatever he's using is bouncing the call back and forth through numerous towers. As of right now all I know is the call originated in  _Vegas,_ but I can't tell you his location. I'll keep trying, but you have to keep him on the line as long as you can."

"Ok, Garcia. We're counting on you," Hotch said, placing the call on hold.

Immediately, the phone began to ring, the red light indicating "Line 2" flashing. Looking somberly at the rest of his team, Hotch pressed the button, engaging the call.

"Aaron Hotchner," a smooth voice said, sounding amused. "The infamous unit-chief of the 'Behavioral Analysis Unit.' Have you been enjoying chasing me?"

Hotch's face darkened.

"Have you been enjoying being backed into a corner by us? You've been getting sloppy and we know it's because you're afraid we're getting close," Hotch responded calmly.

The voice on the phone laughed.

" _Close_?  _Please_ , Aaron. If you were close, you all wouldn't be currently cooped up in the Las Vegas Police Department wracking your brains about how to catch me. Your action hero, Derek Morgan wouldn't have had to take a trip to the hospital yesterday. And poor little Jennifer wouldn't be out of commission right now. Did I break her little nose?" the man asked mockingly.

All the agents' eyes narrowed at the mention of their injured colleagues.

"We have nothing to say to you," Hotch said. "We will catch you, and we'll catch you  _soon_. Cowards like you are the easiest to find."

"Oh, is that so? Will you catch me before I kill another person?" the man asked, voice taking on a hard edge.

Silence descended upon the room as the agents considered the man's threat.

"I want to speak to Spencer," the man said, voice cold.

Derek's eyes widened and he almost growled out his forbiddance, but Hotch spoke before he had the chance to.

"Absolutely not," the older man said.

"Put Spencer on the phone. Now. Or you'll have another body before noon," the man hissed.

Hotch glanced at his team. He very rarely negotiated with the Unsubs they dealt with. And, knowing what they knew about the man's profile, it was unlikely that he would kill if it wasn't in support of his mission. But this Unsub's mission—whatever it was exactly—was obviously being muddled by his obsession with Spencer Reid. Hotch couldn't say with certainty that the man wouldn't recklessly kill a random person, just to make his point.

Gritting his teeth, Hotch silently nodded at the other agents. He would have to concede.

"Give us a few minutes," Hotch said simply, and then put the call on mute.

"Hotch, you can't be serious," Derek said immediately as he shot to his feet. "You can't let this son of a bitch talk to the kid. He's already terrified of him, and after what happened tonight I don't think he could take much more."

Hotch shook his head.

"I don't think we have much choice, Morgan. We can't take the risk that he'll kill someone else. I'll try to keep the conversation from getting too far out of hand. If I see that he's just torturing Spencer, I'll cut the call off."

"Prentiss, can you go and wake Spencer up, and explain to him what's going on?" Hotch asked, and Emily nodded, getting to her feet and quickly exiting the room.

"Garcia," Hotch said as he switched back over to Line 1 and the waiting technical analyst.

"We have him on hold, have you been able to get anything?"

"No, sir. We're still working with an approximately 50-mile-radius. I need more time to narrow it down," she said.

"Ok," Hotch said. "The Unsub wants to speak to Spencer. But, I can't guarantee how long we can leave him on the line. So, please, try to be as fast as you can."

"Whoa, you're going to let him talk to that guy? The one who's been  _stalking_  him?" Garcia asked in shock.

"It's all we can do for now," Hotch said. "Just do your best, ok?"

"I will," she said, seriously, and Hotch placed her on hold again.

The three men looked up as they heard footsteps quickly approaching the room. Emily hurriedly walked in, with J.J. behind her, still pressing an ice-pack to her bruised face, and Spencer bringing up the rear. The boy's eyes were wide and his hair was tousled, clearly indicating he had just been jostled out of sleep.

"Spencer," Hotch said seriously as the two women sat the boy down at the conference table. "The Unsub is on the phone. I know you probably don't want to have to do this, but we really need you to talk to him. If for any reason it gets to be too much for you, we'll end the call immediately. But, we're trying to have our technical analyst trace the call and the longer you can stay on the line the better it will be for us."

Spencer bit his lip, eyebrows furrowed in worry, as he looked around the room. As his eyes landed on Derek, he could see that the darker agent looked tense, his eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion. Spencer could tell that Derek wasn't happy with the situation, but it seemed that there was little he could do about it. Spencer's heart was hammering in his chest as he returned his gaze to the unit-chief. He really didn't want to have to speak to the Unsub again, but he also wanted to help the agents any way he could.

"I … ok, I'll try," Spencer said softly.

"That's great, Spencer," Hotch said. "I don't want you to let him bait you though, ok? You let him do most of the talking."

Spencer nodded silently as he placed his hands on the table, wringing them. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Ok," Hotch said as he leaned over and pressed the button for "Line 2."

"We have Spencer here," Hotch announced, a dark expression on his face.

"Ah, there's my perfect boy. How are you Spencer?" the man asked, jovially.

Spencer looked up at the agents nervously and they nodded at him encouragingly.

"I-I'm fine," Spencer said softly.

"I knew you would be. Spencer, I can't wait for us to just be  _alone_  together. Once these incompetent agents stop meddling, of course. I know you didn't ask them to get involved," the man said, voice sounding sympathetic.

Spencer swallowed thickly. He didn't think he could respond to the man.

"I know your life has been hard, Spencer. But, you know I'm going to make it better for you. Everything I'm doing, I'm doing it for  _you_ ," the man continued. "I've always been impressed by your strength, Spencer. And how beautiful and pure you are. You're nothing like the scum that surrounds us. You make me have faith in humanity again."

Spencer's face flushed at the grandiose statement. He had no idea what the man was talking about. As he looked around the room at the stoic agents who were all looking at the speaker phone, seeming deep in thought, it appeared they were troubled by the man's words.

"Why…" Spencer started, and then seemed to rethink his words. "H-how did you know about… th-that book?"

Hotch shot a disapproving look in Spencer's direction, obviously not approving of his initiation of communication, but the boy was too concerned with finding the answer to his question to notice.

The man on the phone chuckled at hearing the boy's inquiry.

"Did you like the gift, then?" he asked, sounding excited.

Spencer remained silent. He definitely had not  _liked_ it. It had terrified him.

"Well… a very special woman told me about it. She told me how much you had worked on your Russian, just because you wanted to read your favorite books in their original language. She's very proud of you, Spencer. Of everything you do. You're her pride and joy," the man said.

Spencer's eyes widened as his breath caught in his throat. He suddenly understood where the man had gotten the information from.

"M-my  _mother_?" Spencer whispered out in shock. "Y-you spoke to my mother!?"

Hotch's eyes widened and he immediately put the call on mute, as he looked at the panicking boy. The other members of the team were equally disturbed by the information they had heard.

"Spencer, you don't need to continue with the conversation. If this is too personal for you, we can just stop it now," Hotch said.

"N-no! I want to know! How could he… how does he know about my mother?" Spencer asked with wide eyes, but he didn't seem afraid. He seemed determined.

Hotch looked at the other members of the team, and they all seemed to be uncertain.

"I don't know," Rossi said, with a frown. "This could get bad, quickly."

Derek turned to look at Spencer, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Kid, you sure about this?" Derek asked.

"Yes," Spencer said quickly. "If he actually met my mother, I need to know. I-if she's not safe… I… I just don't know what I'll do!"

Hotch nodded reluctantly and unmuted the call.

"Spencer!?" the man was asking, voice sounding frustrated and angry. "Are you there?"

"I-I'm here," Spencer said hurriedly.

" _What_  happened?" the man asked, voice taking on an icy tone. The change did not go unnoticed by the agents, who stiffened in surprise.

"I, um… I think there was an issue with the phone," Spencer said, hoping to calm the man down. "You were saying something about the person who told you about my favorite books. W-was it my mother?'

"Ah, yes, Diana. I met her a few months ago. I wanted to know more about you, and when I found out the efforts you went to, all to support your mother, I just knew I had to meet her. She's a  _lovely_  woman. So bright, and so energetic. You wouldn't even know she was unwell. She had so many interesting things to say. But you were her favorite topic, Spencer," the man said.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut tight. He couldn't believe it. His heart was racing and he felt like he just wanted to run to the nearest phone and call Bennington, but he knew he couldn't do that.

"Um… do you talk to my mother often?" Spencer asked, hesitantly.

The man laughed.

"No, no. Nothing of the sort. I met her that one time, and I haven't gone back. Of course, we can go see her as often as you want, once you start living with me," the man said happily.

Spencer inhaled sharply as he looked up at the other agents. They were all staring at him with wide eyes as well. The Unsub was revealing his plans for the boy, and no one had anticipated that this would be a part of it.

"I… I don't understand," Spencer said. "Live with you?"

"Well, yes. I've already started making plans. I have all the things you need. A place all to yourself. You'll be very happy with me, Spencer," the man said, almost lovingly.

Spencer swallowed, trying to keep down his disgust. He could feel himself starting to panic, and knew he had to stay in control.

"Wh-why… why do you want me to  _live_  with you?" he asked.

"Spencer, I want to save you from all the horrible things you have had to experience. Just like I saved you that night," the man said after a pause.

Spencer's eyebrows rose. It sounded like the man was saying he  _knew_ him. As if they had  _met_. But he couldn't remember anyone ever having 'saved' him before.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Spencer asked, without thinking about whether he really wanted to know the answer or not.

"Well, of course, you wouldn't know. But, that was our destiny. It's how I first met you Spencer. I saw what that disgusting man did to you. You were only 15 and he  _forced_  you. He even had the gall to record all of it. I'm sure you didn't know. You were so innocent and so scared. But, I took revenge for you. I killed that cretin, so he could never do that ever again. And I made sure to take the DVD. No one will ever be able to see it, Spencer. I protected you then and I want to protect you...forever," the man said softly, almost as if he was saying something soothing to the boy.

As Derek heard the words and realization dawned on him, his eyes widened in horror. But at the same moment, Spencer pushed back from the table and jumped to his feet, his face as white as a sheet. Hotch, seeing that the man's words had triggered something in Spencer, and regretting ever having let the boy talk to the crazed man, quickly disconnected the call.

The agents watched on as Spencer seemed to come apart at the seams.

"N-no…  _no_ , I-I can't believe it… I j-just…" Spencer muttered out as tears began to fill his eyes.

He dragged his hands through his hair, pulling at it, as if the pain would wake him up from some horrible dream. But as he felt the shocked stares of the speechless agents burning into his skin, he just couldn't take it. He couldn't take the idea that they  _knew_ —that  _anyone_ knew what had happened to him. And then he took off, running out of the room.

"Shit! Kid, wait!" Derek shouted as he ran after Spencer.

Emily and J.J. shot to their feet as well, intending to follow their teammate, and the distressed boy, but Hotch stopped them.

"No, let them go. I think Derek can handle it. He'll be the best thing for Spencer right now," Hotch said insightfully, his face looking pained at the thought of what Spencer was going through.

Then silence descended upon the room, as each person mulled over the information they had just received. By the troubled expression on each of their faces, they had begun to connect the dots.

"So… are we thinking that the person on the missing tape from the Demetri Santos murder was  _Spencer_?" Rossi asked, voicing the thought that was on each of their minds.

Hotch shook his head sadly.

"It would make sense. We didn't know how the Unsub first became aware of Spencer, but it seems that he came across him through Santos. That was  _four_  years ago. That would definitely be enough time for someone to develop such a deep-rooted obsession," he said.

J.J. bit her lip as she tried to blink back her tears.

" _Fifteen_?" she asked, voice strained. "Poor Spence."

Emily, feeling similarly distressed, placed a hand on J.J.'s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

"Well, I can't say I'm not happy Santos is dead now, and that that DVD will never see the light of day," Rossi said with a scowl. "No one deserves what this kid has been through."

Hotch nodded in agreement. Sighing, he looked at the phone, remembering to check back in with Garcia.

"Hi Garcia," he said as he pressed the button. "Do you have anything for us?'

They listened as she sighed heavily.

"The call was finally long enough for me to get a pretty exact reading and I just finished triangulating. It was coming from within two-blocks of the police station," she said.

The four agents' eyes widened at that information.

"We missed him again," Garcia said, solemnly.

* * *

Derek followed Spencer as he ran through the building and pushed his way through a door at the end of the hallway. As the door slammed open, Spencer was met by the cool air and the dim lights of the stairwell. He tried to run down the stairs, but he was so overcome by his emotions that he didn't have the strength to go further.

His body was wracked by sobs as he leaned against the wall and sank to his feet. He was vaguely aware of the feel of large hands on his shoulders, rubbing soothingly. But he couldn't catch his breath, as his mind was brought back to that horrible night. He hadn't let himself think about what Demetri Santos had done to him in years, and just in the course of the last week he had been reminded of it  _twice_. Telling Derek about it had been difficult for him, but at the same time somewhat cathartic since he had revealed his most carefully-kept secret. The relief he felt at lifting that burden off his shoulders and sharing it with another person had been surprising. But Spencer had been in control of the telling, and he was able to do it on his own terms. But, now, hearing that the man who had abused him had actuallyrecorded the most horrific experience of his life, and then, apparently, shared it with  _others,_ turned Spencer's stomach. And, unable to hold back, he leaned over and vomited.

"It's okay, it's okay," came the soothing voice of Derek, as he rubbed Spencer's back.

Spencer trembled as he continued to sob. He was so upset and humiliated, but he didn't feel as if he wanted to push Derek away. So he let the older man continue to tend to him, finding the attention comforting. And as his tears ran out, turning to nothing more than breathy gasps, Derek pulled Spencer backwards and into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around him.

"You're okay, Spencer. Don't worry," Derek said as he kissed the top of Spencer's head.

Closing his eyes and leaning back into Derek's embrace, Spencer couldn't help but shake his head as he brought his hands up to wipe furiously at his tear-stained cheeks.

"I can't… I just can't believe it," Spencer murmured to himself.

"Kid… I had no idea," Derek said softly after a few moments. "If… If I knew that this case was related to… to what happened to you back then, I would've done everything in my power to protect you from this."

Spencer's shoulders began to shake again as he felt the hot tears return to his eyes. He was shocked that he could still cry this much. Maybe it was because he had been holding back his tears for so long.

"Everybody  _knows_ now," Spencer said, voice breaking with emotion. "Th-they're all going to look at me differently."

"No one's going to judge you, Spencer," Derek said as he held him tighter. "None of this was your fault, and, if anyone understands that, it's the men and women in that room. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

For some reason, Derek felt his own throat constrict with emotion as the words escaped his lips. He was telling Spencer all the things he wished _he_  had believed all those years ago.

"It's not fair," Spencer was saying, as he struggled in vain to blink back his tears. "I thought it was all behind me but… D-Demetri h-he  _recorded_  it. H-how could he do that!? And th-then other people  _saw_  it! I don't even know how many people he  _showed_ it to! And now this maniac who's after me has seen it, too? He saw him do th-those things to me..."

Spencer began crying again and all Derek could do was hold him, patiently running his fingers through the boy's silky hair until the tears died down.

"Spencer… Kid, don't let yourself dwell on things like that. I promise you, no one will ever see it again," Derek said.

All Spencer could do was take a shaky breath as he turned his head and buried it into Derek's chest, wrapping his arms around the agent's neck.

"I just want all this to be over," Spencer murmured.

"I know, kid. I know," Derek said, softly, wishing he could make that come true.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the agents were standing in the conference room, preparing to sit down for lunch when Hotch briskly walked into the room.

"Did anyone wake up Spencer?" he asked as he looked around.

After Derek had returned from consoling Spencer, he informed his team that he had taken the emotionally-exhausted boy back to the overnight room. Spencer had obviously needed to rest after all he had been through. And everyone agreed it would be best to let him do so.

"No, I checked on him a while ago, but I wanted to give him a little more time to sleep so I decided to wait to wake him until the food got here. He was so worked up earlier this morning, that I think he could really use it," J.J. said as she smiled sadly.

Hotch nodded his head.

"I agree with you. And it's actually for the best that he's not here right now. I need to talk to you all for a few minutes before we bring him back in here," Hotch said as he gestured to the table.

Curious, the other four agents took a seat and waited for their unit-leader to begin speaking.

"First thing, Garcia was able to check us into an alternative hotel under pseudonyms. She thinks the Unsub was able to find what hotel we were staying at, and the individual rooms, based on our names. Not too surprising. She said it wouldn't be too difficult for someone to find out the names of the agents assigned to the Unit. And we knew he knew most of our names before last night, in any case. So, once we get through lunch and what we have left to do in the afternoon, I'm going to send you all back to the hotel to get some much-needed rest," he informed them.

"Ok…?" Emily said as she raised an eyebrow. From the way Hotch was acting, she had an inkling that he was telling them the good news first because he was about to say something they wouldn't like.

"And," Hotch said with a sigh, "I just got off the phone with Strauss."

"Oh, Lord," Rossi said as she shook his head.

Hotch rolled his eyes.

"She's our section chief and she wanted an update," he said simply as he shrugged his shoulders. "I had to tell her how things have been going. We've been on this case longer than we usually take, and she needed to know what our plan was to wrap things up."

Derek felt something twist in his stomach. He thought he knew where this was heading.

"So," Hotch said as he looked meaningfully at each of his team. "We discussed the possibility of infiltrating the private event that the club is hosting tomorrow night, and we both agreed it was the best option."

"You decided that with  _Strauss_ , before talking to us!?" Derek asked, angrily.

"What do you want from me, Morgan? We're backed into a corner. The Unsub's unstable, and is threatening to kill additional victims on a whim, just because he doesn't get his way. He made it clear to us that he plans on absconding with Spencer and taking him off somewhere to live with him. What do you suggest we do? We can't let him roam the streets any much longer," Hotch snapped back.

Derek gritted his teeth, throwing his hands up in frustration, and looking like he wanted to give Hotch more of a piece of his mind.

"We all know this isn't ideal," Rossi said, intervening. "But we have to keep focused on the big picture. We need to catch this Unsub and keep Spencer safe."

He could see that both Emily and J.J. seemed disturbed by the news, and Derek had a dark glower on his face, looking especially on the verge of losing it. And Rossi had always been the closest one to Hotch, so even though the man maintained a stoic expression, Rossi could tell that his friend was also at the end of his ropes. He seemed tired and frustrated.

Sighing, Hotch sat back from the table.

"Spencer's safety is first priority, ok? I know that. We'll do this right, so that no harm can come to him," Hotch said as he gave Derek a sympathetic look.

The younger man could only shake his head, obviously not yet convinced that that was possible.

"J.J., could you go get Spencer?" Hotch asked.

Nodding solemnly, the blonde woman got to her feet, following her superior's order.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Derek watched on quietly as a still-sleepy Spencer pushed around the Chinese food on his plate, hair still mussed from his nap, as he nodded and smiled softly at the conversation J.J. and Emily were having with him. The two women were sitting close to him, flanking him on either side, like a protective cocoon. When J.J. had first brought Spencer back into the conference room, Derek had wanted to take Spencer aside and ask how he was doing. The dark circles under the boy's eyes had looked darker than usual and Derek was concerned. But the two women had descended on the boy, like they were on a mission and Derek had been forced to back off. And although Spencer seemed as if he was somewhat forcing himself to smile through the conversation he was having with the girls, he at least seemed relaxed. Derek would be happy if J.J. and Emily succeeded at keeping him that way for the time being.

Hotch had had to take another emergency call, so he told the team they could all start eating in his absence. No one had broached the impending conversation topic with Spencer, because they weren't sure how Hotch wanted to deliver the news. And, in any case, no one was looking forward to that conversation. So, everyone's primary focus had been on keeping Spencer calm. But Derek knew they could only pretend for so long.

And as they heard the sound of approaching shoes on the tile floor, all heads turned as Hotch walked into the room.

"Hi Spencer," Hotch said with a tight smile as he addressed the young man.

Spencer blinked in surprise. It wasn't often that the unit-leader's focus was solely on him, and all the attention was making him self-conscious.

"Uh… hi?" he responded shyly.

Hotch pulled out the closest open seat to Spencer, with Emily between him and the boy, and J.J. on Spencer's other side, and sat down. Spencer looked at the two women in confusion, and then tossed a glance in Derek's direction. But Derek wasn't looking at him and seemed angry as he stared down at his hands.

"I need to have a serious conversation with you, Spencer," Hotch said, drawing the boy's attention away from the troubled-looking agent.

"Okay," Spencer responded nervously.

"During our investigation, we came across an avenue of access that may help us corner the Unsub and bring an end to this case. It seems that the person who has been killing men over the last few years might have a connection to the club you work for, on an investment level. It was brought to our attention that the club hosts a number of private events each month and that investors tend to attend these parties," Hotch began.

Spencer flinched at mention of the parties, and his eyebrows lowered, his face taking on a guarded expression. He was aware of J.J.'s hand descending on his shoulder, in a comforting gesture, but he didn't take his eyes off the dark-haired man in front of him.

"We know that a party is being hosted tomorrow night. Since you work for the club, you would be the only person out of all of us whose presence at the party wouldn't come across as suspicious," Hotch continued. "And… we believe that if the Unsub knows you have plans to to attend he'll… make sure to be there too."

Spencer's eyes widened in shock as the realization of what Hotch intended to ask him to do dawned on him.

"No way. Absolutely no fucking  _way_!" he responded, angrily.

The others in the room cringed at the boy's outburst.

"Spencer, calm down and just try to hear him out," J.J. said.

She then gasped as he shrugged her hand off his shoulder and turned to glare at her.

"I… I hate going to those parties! You have no idea what they're like. There's no way I'm going to subject myself to something like that," Spencer spat.

"See, Hotch," Derek spoke up, finally, an edge to his voice. "I told you it would be unreasonable to ask him to do this."

Spencer turned his angry eyes on to Derek. He couldn't believe the older man had even  _told_  the other agents about the 'sex parties.' He wondered what  _else_  he had told his team. He couldn't ignore the pang of betrayal he felt at the thought.

Hotch sighed, ignoring Derek's outburst, and drawing Spencer's attention back to him.

"I know it's not ideal for you, Spencer," he said, holding the boy's gaze with his own. "But you have to understand that we wouldn't be asking you to do this, unless there was really no other choice. We've been trying to narrow down our suspect pool. And with your help, we've definitely been able to get much further, but it just hasn't been enough. And at this point, especially with hearing how the Unsub acted earlier, we're not sure we have very much more time before he does something really rash… It's to protect you as well, Spencer."

Spencer just shook his head in disbelief at what the man was telling him.

"Y-you want me to actually be in the same room as a man who's trying to kidnap me and… do  _God_ knows what else to me?" he asked in shock.

Derek muttered a curse from behind him, but Spencer ignored him.

"Spencer," Emily interjected. "We know what we're doing. We've staged undercover operations like this numerous times before. We wouldn't let anything happen to you."

Spencer gave her an uncertain look.

"You wouldn't have to do anything dangerous," Hotch said. "You would literally just be there to show your face. In fact, I want you to stay away from anything and everything that is even remotely suspect at that party."

Spencer frowned in confusion.

"We'd have you wired and you'd be being observed by Federal agents. So… we really can't have you engaging in any illegal activities, Spencer," Hotch said as he looked at the boy, somewhat sympathetically.

Spencer's eyes widened as his face heated in embarrassment.

"I'm  _not_  a prostitute," he snapped.

Hotch cringed.

"I know that, Spencer. But, from our understanding, the point of these parties is to allow the attendees to engage in many activities that they…probably couldn't do in the club. So, there's a chance that something—whether initiated by you, your colleagues, or one of the guests—could be picked up over the wire, and, as federal agents, there's only so much we can ignore," Hotch tried to explain.

Spencer rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Listening to the agents' explanations, he wondered if he should actually give more thought to the plan. While he hadn't attended one of the parties in almost a year, he supposed it really wouldn't be  _impossible_  for him to go, if it meant he could help stop the man who was after him. In addition, it had terrified Spencer that the man had been to visit his mother, and he hadn't even known about it. The man was resourceful, and apparently had more connections than Spencer could even fathom. He didn't think he would ever be able to get away from this man if the agents didn't catch him. He felt backed into a corner.

"Wh-what would I have to do?" he asked hesitantly as he looked at Hotch.

Hotch gave him a small, relieved smile.

"As I said, we wouldn't ask you to do anything dangerous. We would just require you to wear a wire under your clothes. We won't want to draw too much attention to you, so you won't have any means of communicating with us. But we'll be able to overhear anything that's said to you. We'll have multiple units staked outside of the premises, and if we have any reason to believe something is awry, we'll be storming the place in less than two minutes," Hotch explained.

Spencer bit his lip as he considered the man's words. He nervously glanced to his side, and caught Derek's eyes. The older man was looking at him with concern. Spencer knew he wanted him to say 'no.' Turning back to Hotch, Spencer took a deep breath.

"Would I… have to t-talk to him, if I meet him?" Spencer asked.

"If he approaches you and says anything that gives the impression that he's the Unsub, we'll infiltrate as soon as we can. You should be absolutely safe since you will be in a populated party, and our Unsub doesn't tend to strike unless he can do it in solitude. However, of course, you have to be careful to never go anywhere isolated while you're at the party," Hotch said seriously.

Spencer nodded.

"We'll be monitoring our list of suspects and comparing it to the people who enter the party, as well. We'll never stop profiling him and if, for some reason, we can make an arrest before the party, we might not even need you to go, ok?" Hotch told him.

"Do you think that's something you could do?" J.J asked Spencer, from behind him.

Spencer turned and forced a small smile as he shrugged.

"I-I guess… I mean, I'm not excited about it, but… I guess I trust you guys to not let anything happen to me," he said.

"We really appreciate you agreeing to this, kid," Rossi said from his place across the table.

Spencer looked up at him giving him a small smile, as well. When he looked over to where Derek was sitting, the older man wasn't looking at him. Feeling disappointed to not have Derek's support, Spencer turned back to Hotch.

"Um… even if I say I'd be willing to do it, though, there's not even any guarantee that I'll be able to get on the list. Working these parties can be pretty… um… 'lucrative' for the people at the club. So, depending on what the theme is and where it's being hosted, people sign up for these things sometimes  _weeks_  in advance. If there isn't an open spot, Lindy—my manager—isn't going to let me in," Spencer explained.

"Ok, well, I don't necessarily want to tip her off to the fact that  _we're_  asking you to go as part of our investigation. I'm not fully convinced that someone in the club isn't feeding our Unsub information about you," Hotch said seriously.

Spencer nodded solemnly.

"Can you call her and ask if there's any availability?" Hotch asked. "If she gives us trouble, I'll have to see what I can do to pull some strings. But for now, I'd like it to come from you."

Spencer bit his lip nervously.

"Well… you guys told me to call out of work earlier today. Uh… Lindy's the one I'm supposed to talk to when I do things like that, but she was so angry about what happened when Agent Morgan came to the club the other night that I… I just knew she wouldn't take it well if I told her. So I left a message with one of the other managers. If… if I need to ask a favor from her, I'm going to need to do it in person," Spencer said, his voice sounding scared.

The other agents looked at him with worry, surprised that he sounded so hesitant to interact with his employer. Most of them had not had an opportunity to meet the woman before, so they had no idea what to expect of her.

"Ok, kid," Derek said, finally speaking again. "Later today, we'll go over there  _together_ , and you can tell her in person."

Spencer turned to him, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Th-thanks," Spencer said, smiling at him, happy that the man had seemed to warm up to him again.

Derek gave him a small smile back, although his eyes looked sad.

"Ok, sounds like a plan," Hotch said. "You guys finish up your lunch, and I'll start the plans for orchestrating our undercover operation. I'm going to call in some of the agents from the Las Vegas field office, for additional backup. And I'll brief the LVPD on how I want them to be positioned. I want this thing to be strictly by the book."

The people in the room nodded, many of them already wondering whether tomorrow night would be a success or if it would all come crashing down around them.

* * *

As it was approaching the late afternoon, and almost time for the doors of  _Mon Petit Chien_  to open, Lindy Roth sat at her desk, quickly scrolling through the profit margins from the previous week. She frowned, pink-painted lips turning down in displeasure, as she saw that they had yet again had a particularly bad week. They had still turned a fairly good profit, but their numbers for the past two weeks had been lower than they had been in almost three years. She knew it was obviously a result of the murder that had taken place in the club. Even though they had tried to keep it relatively hush-hush, word had still made its way around. Added to that, the presence of LVPD cops and the FBI had some of their more high-profile clients skipping their weekly visits and scheduled appointments. No one wanted to risk getting their faces plastered all over the front page of a newspaper if the cops raided the place, or if, God-forbid, there was  _another_ murder.

Growling to herself, Lindy couldn't help but think about Spencer Reid, especially after the message she had received earlier from one of the subordinate managers, telling her that the little coward had called out of work. He was such a  _nobody_ , but suddenly he was a major thorn in her side. Recently, she wished she could just fire him, but that wasn't an option because he was the favorite of one of the investors who held a large amount of the shares in the club. She couldn't understand the appeal, especially since the man had never actually  _booked_ Spencer. She had no idea how that man could become so enamored with the boy. And, initially, she had even presumed Spencer must be fucking the guy on the side.

But, on the few occasions she had actually talked to the man, he always talked about Spencer in such adulatory and grandiose terms that she had started to believe the man had never even  _spoken_ to the awkward teen. If he  _had_ , he would know that Spencer wasn't anything special. Rolling her eyes, she chalked it up to the man being yet another 'obsessive freak.' She had come across her fair share of his kind in the years she had been doing this type of work. But the man paid good money for information on the strange boy, and Lindy was happy to accept it under the table. She wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

But now, remembering how the boy had told her that the FBI thought the person who had killed Victor LaRoux was now  _stalking_  him, Lindy really didn't think she could keep him around if that was the case. If the police didn't catch this guy, and hopefully prove that the murder had been completely unrelated to the club's activities, she couldn't fathom them being able to bounce back from this. And it wouldn't help, in any case, to keep Spencer Reid around if it came out that a client had been  _murdered_  because of him. Spencer was only popular because he was mysterious. He was sullen and quiet. He always pulled away when he was shown attention, instead of leaning in and reveling in it like all the other dancers. The clients who pursued Spencer liked the 'chase.' And if that was the case, she could instruct anyone else to play that role. It didn't  _have_  to be Spencer.

When she first met the boy, after having been introduced to him by a film-maker friend who had filmed a couple solo-shoots of the kid, she had felt bad for him. He had been underweight and skittish. And she could tell by the sorry state of his clothes that he was hard-up for cash. But more than anything else, he just seemed like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. For some reason, she saw something of herself in him. A self from a long, long time ago. So, she had given him a job, even knowing he was underage and the hassle she'd have to incur to keep that fact under the radar. But, as she told him the last time she spoke to him, this was a  _business_. And Spencer hadn't blossomed like she had imagined he would. He was still very shy, and it was obvious to her that he  _hated_ his job. She felt as if he was spitting in her face; like he thought he was 'too good.' She was shocked that after two years working here, the pride hadn't been beaten out of him yet. She wondered if maybe she gave him too much leeway. In any case, Spencer was becoming more of a liability than anything else. If she was anything, she was a ruthless business woman, and if she couldn't get more out of Spencer than she was putting in, she'd have to get rid of him.

Her thoughts were interrupted as someone knocked on the door and she absentmindedly yelled out, "Come," as she continued to stare at the spreadsheet in front of her. Hearing the person enter but not say anything, Lindy turned around in her chair, ready to scream at them for wasting her time.

"You  _must_ be kidding me," she said as her eyes landed on the boy who had just entered her office.

_Spencer Reid_ , she thought with fury.  _Speak of the devil._

Upon hearing her caustic words, Spencer visibly stiffened, hunching his shoulders and drawing in on himself.

"You had the balls to call out of work on me at the last minute, and  _still_  show your face here?" she asked with wide eyes.

She was even angrier because Spencer had purposefully avoided speaking to  _her_  when he had called out. She was sure he knew that if he had spoken to her she wouldn't have settled for whatever bullshit excuse he was planning to give.

"Uh… um… I really couldn't… You know that there's this guy after me and he-" Spencer began.

"Blah, blah blah!" she snapped at him. "You're walking a very thin line here, kid. And I swear to God you better not say anything stupid to me or you'll be fired faster than you can blink."

Spencer flinched. But, then, remembering he was on a mission, he squared his shoulders and stepped further into the room. Feeling her cold stare on him, he settled himself into one of the armchairs in front of her desk and then looked up at her.

She was still glaring at him, but her eyebrow was raised in curiosity.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I… I was wondering if there was any possible way for me to go to the Prince's Ball tomorrow night," he asked her, feeling his face heat in embarrassment.

She blinked at him in genuine surprise.

" _Excuse_  me?" she said, mockingly. "Spencer Reid wants to go to a party? He wants to shake his ass and get felt up, all for that cool, hard cash, huh? I never thought I'd see the day again."

Spencer looked down in shame.

"I-I need to… um… make some more money. You know, with work being so slow, th-things have been really hard for me so I figured um… I could make some much-needed cash if I worked a party," he told her.

Lindy's eyebrows lowered as she scowled at him.

"Oh, so all of a sudden money's tight and you're  _not_  too good for the parties?" she asked, spitefully. "Funny how things work out like that, huh?"

Spencer grimaced at her accusation, but decided to ignore her jab.

"Come on, Lindy.  _Please._ I really need the money. So can you just tell me if there's any room?" he asked, looking at her with pleading eyes.

She rolled her eyes as she leaned back in her chair, sighing dramatically.

"Well, you're in luck," she said as she looked at her nails, disinterestedly. "Axel was signed up but he had to pull out last minute since he sprained his ankle last night during one of his numbers . There's an open spot."

Spencer perked up at hearing that and was about to thank her when he saw the look she was giving him. She was looking at him with cold eyes, even though there was a smirk on her lips.

"But, I'm not just going to  _give_  it to you, Spencer. No, you don't deserve that. You don't get to just waltz in here after all the shit you've been putting me through lately and have everything go your way. If you want it, you're going to have to beg for it. It's about time you got down off your high horse," she spat.

Spencer paled.  _Beg for it_ , he thought to himself. The idea in itself was preposterous. He would have to humiliate himself so that Lindy would allow him to work at a party he didn't even want to go to in the  _first_ place? The mere thought of it disgusted him and he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to do it. But, as he thought that, his mind drifted to the team of agents who were relying on him. He thought about J.J. and the beating she took from the Unsub in an attempt to protect him. And he thought about Hotch, and the way the older man's eyes had flashed with passion and dedication when he described how much they needed his help. And he thought about Derek—how Derek had stood up for him against his boss because he so badly didn't want him to agree to this, and Spencer had gone against him and done so anyway. He wouldn't back out now.

"Wh-what do I have to do?" Spencer asked hesitantly, as he locked eyes with Lindy.

She grinned at him.

"Tell me that you're a whore. Say that you always acted like you were too good for this, but you're no better than anyone else who works here. In fact, you're  _worse_  than them, because you really  _can_  be bought for any price. They just play pretend, but you're a  _real_ whore, Spencer" she said, looking at him with steely eyes.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe she was serious. But as he stared at her, and she stared back, looking at him expectantly, he realized that she  _was_  serious.

Averting his eyes and swallowing thickly, Spencer pushed down his disgust and shame.

"I-I'm a whore," he whispered in a soft voice as he wrung his hands in his lap. "And… I-I acted like I was t-too good for this, but I'm worse than everyone else here b-because I… I can be bought for any price. I'm a… a  _real_  whore."

Hearing the words come from his own mouth did something to Spencer. It  _hurt_  to say something like that. Maybe it was because it sounded awfully similar to the small voice in the back of his head that he had been forcing himself to ignore ever since he had gotten caught up in this type of work all those years ago. The same voice that had been niggling at him since that first night in Demetri Santos' office when he took the wad of cash the man had tossed to him, almost as if it was an afterthought. Spencer had felt dirty then. He felt as if he really  _could_ be bought, and he was just worth as much as the next person was willing to pay for him. He often battled against that gnawing feeling, and never let himself really linger on it too long. But, right now, sitting in front of Lindy, as she smirked at him, looking as pleased as the Cheshire Cat, it was the first time he had ever really admitted it out loud. And he never wanted to hear something like that said about him again.

He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes of the stinging sensation, and gritted his teeth, trying to will himself not to cry. He wouldn't cry in front of  _her_  of all people.

"Ugh, fine," Lindy said as she waved her hand at him dismissively, "go downstairs and tell Mo you need an outfit for tomorrow night and that I signed off on it. It's no fun if you're going to sit there looking like someone just kicked your puppy."

Spencer looked up and glared at her, no longer caring if she saw the wetness in his eyes.

" _Man_ up, Spencer," she said, as she met his cold stare, "and  _grow_  up. It's time to face reality. Sooner or later, you're going to need more money and this holier-than-thou, innocent little boy shtick of yours isn't going to cut it anymore. Be glad you can work here instead of being forced to walk the streets, kid. So don't bite the hand that feeds you. Now, get the  _fuck_  out of my office."

Without another word, Spencer stood and stormed out of her office, making sure to slam the door behind him.

* * *

When Spencer climbed into the car, slamming the door and tossing what looked to be a suit bag into the back seat, Derek frowned. He could tell that something was obviously troubling the younger man. He had seen many sides of Spencer, but this was like a quiet rage.

"Kid, you ok?" Derek asked, watching him carefully.

Spencer stiffened, and turned his body so he was facing the window.

"I'm fine," he muttered out.

Derek's frown deepened.

"Hey, seriously, you look like you're upset. Why don't you tell me what's wrong," Derek offered.

" _Nothing's_ wrong," Spencer said as he hunched his shoulder. He still refused to turn toward Derek and the older man was starting to become worried.

"Kid, did someone  _do_  something to you?" Derek asked, seriously, voice already laced with anger at the thought.

"No!" Spencer snapped as he turned around to face Derek. "And, you know what, don't think you always have to 'protect' me, ok!? I'm  _not_  some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself!"

Derek blinked in surprise as he looked at Spencer's angry face. With eyebrows raised, Derek remained silent and turned toward the front of the car, pushing the key into the ignition. As he turned it and listened to the engine come to life, he could tell that Spencer's quick flash of anger was already slowly dissipating. Derek stayed silent as he pulled out of the parking lot and started driving. The only sounds that filled the car were the sounds of him and Spencer breathing.

As Derek came to a stop light, he chanced glancing at Spencer out of the corner of his eye and could see the boy sitting there, wringing his hands in his lap, shoulders hunched, and bottom lip tucked between his teeth. It seemed as if he felt contrite for his outburst, but didn't know how to broach the conversation.

Derek let out a soft sigh and shook his head.

"Spencer, I don't think you're a 'damsel in distress.' And I  _don't_  think you can't take care of yourself. Obviously, you're a strong and very resourceful kid. You've been doing a great job of protecting yourself for  _years_  where most other people your age would've fallen apart. So, no, that's not why I'm asking. I saw you were upset, and because I  _care_  about you, I wanted to know if something had happened," Derek said as he kept his eyes trained on the road.

Derek heard a small sound that almost sounded like a sniffle come from Spencer's direction.

"I-I know that…" Spencer muttered in a soft voice. "I'm sorry I was so… I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm not used to relying on other people like this and when I get backed into a corner, I guess I just revert to my old ways out of habit. I'm just under a lot of stress with every thing that's been going on and things are just… getting really hard to deal with. So… please, don't ask me what happened, ok? It wasn't anything big. I just um… heard some things I didn't really want to. But I'll be fine."

Derek couldn't deny the fact that he really wanted to know what had happened. The thought that someone had purposefully hurt the kid—even with words—was enough to get his blood boiling. But it was obvious Spencer didn't want to share. At least not right now. And Derek didn't want to insult him by giving the impression that he thought Spencer _needed_  him to intervene. He was telling the truth when he said he believed Spencer was strong. But that didn't mean it wasn't okay to lean on others once in a while. He hoped Spencer would learn that soon.

They were both silent for a while as Derek continued driving and they both pretended that Spencer wasn't sniffling and wiping his eyes. Then Spencer took a deep breath.

"But… it means a lot to me that you… that you care enough to be worried about me," he whispered.

Derek turned to Spencer and smiled at him. Spencer gave him a small smile back, eyes shining slightly. As Derek turned back to face the road, he took his right hand off the wheel and placed it, palm up, on Spencer's seat, slightly nudging his thigh. Spencer looked down at the hand in surprise, and then tentatively placed his hand on top of Derek's larger one. As Derek's hand closed around Spencer's and their fingers intertwined, Spencer's smile grew bigger. The drive back to the station was filled with a pleasant, and knowing, silence.

* * *

A/N: Ok, that's it for now my pretties! I feel like I really put Spencer through the gauntlet in every chapter. Poor Spence! But he's just so  _great_ to pull emotion out of. Ugh, watching him always makes my heart squeeze with all the  _feeels._

Anywho, after this, there will only be TWO more chapters! Eek! As always, I would love to hear your thoughts, so please leave me a comment/review. I love talking with you guys! xoxo


	12. ChapterTwelve

Disclaimer:  I do not own Criminal Minds.  It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS corporation.  This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit from its publication.  

A/N: Hi everyone! It seems this 'Criminal Minds Wednesday' update thing is becoming quite a habit ;p. New episode and new chapter, yay! :D As always, thank you for the reviews & favorites! They mean so much! I really loved writing this story and hearing from all of you over the last few months! So please keep it up!  Super big shout-out to my beta, Eskimita, for all her help as well :).

I also wanted to let you know that we've reached the beginning of the end! Here's where everything (sort of?) culminates. I tried really hard to make sure I tied up  _all_ the loose ends, and it gave me a real great appreciation for people who write thrillers/mysteries because it actually takes a lot of work & due-diligence to do that. So if I missed something, please forgive me D: And I had a  _lot_ of logistical s#$% to cover, so this isn't going to be a very relationship-y chapter for Morgan & Reid. This chapter is about getting down to  _business_ , lol. (But this isn't even 'everything' I had planned for the end, thus why you have one  _more_  chapter 'on deck,' and you can get all that stuff  _there_ :p). So, enough talking; I'll let you get to it! Thank you for reading!

xoxo

* * *

Derek nodded as he hung up the phone, turning from the hotel-room window and away from the bright lights of the Vegas Strip. He had just received an update from Hotch regarding the covert operation they were going to be executing tonight. Garcia had not had any luck in parsing out one definitive suspect from the shortened list, but she had completed a comprehensive background check on each of the individuals and had faxed the files she complied over to Hotch saying, "I'm not a profiler, so I'll leave the rest to you." The team would work together during the operation to see if they could determine the Unsub's true identity using the profile they had built. In the meantime, Derek was tasked with making sure Spencer was prepared for tonight.

Glancing at the boy in question, Derek felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. Spencer was sitting on the edge of the hotel-room bed, wearing one of the hotel's plush bath robes over his pajamas and happily watching old cartoons as he helped himself to his dinner. In a show of his gratitude, Hotch had signed off on Spencer ordering 'whatever he wanted' from the room-service menu, but the boy had only ordered a pot of coffee, cereal and a brownie for dessert. Derek had cringed when he heard Spencer give the order over the phone. But, it was yet another one of the things that made the quirky teen so enigmatically endearing.

Derek had found himself having a lot of time to 'think' about all the appealing facets of Spencer Reid since he had been cohabitating in a hotel room with the kid for what was going on almost 24hrs. Hotch had wanted everyone in top shape for the night's activities—in addition to not wanting to give the Unsub another chance to take a cheap shot at his team—so last night he had informed them that he was allowing everyone to stay in their hotel rooms as they worked on the case. Derek, however, hadn't been able to get very much rest. Garcia had made new hotel reservations for them, and the room was just as spacious and nice as their last one, but she hadn't been made aware of the fact that Spencer and Derek would be  _sharing_.

So when Derek opened the door to the room last night, his stomach sank at seeing the large, king-sized bed sitting in the center of the room. Spencer had looked happy with the arrangement, but Derek wasn't sure it was wise to have the added temptation. He had immediately placed a call to the front desk and had had to hold back a curse when they told him they had no more double rooms available. Spencer had seemed hurt that Derek wanted to change, but Derek had quickly explained he had wanted a change for comfort's sake. He wouldn't admit to the kid the reason was because he didn't think he'd be able to keep his own hands to himself.

And when they went to bed that night, Spencer had been pretty quiet. The boy hadn't made any attempt to get closer to him, and Derek found himself watching the rise and fall of Spencer's back long after the boy had drifted to sleep. Unfortunately, when Derek had awoken a few hours later, feeling a lot more relaxed than he had when he went to sleep, he realized, by the tickle of coconut-scented chestnut hair against his nose, that he was  _spooning_ Spencer. As Derek stiffened, hoping he could ease away from the boy without waking him, he had cursed softly as he felt Spencer shift in his arms. The boy had then turned and looked at him over his shoulder with wide, yet amused, eyes.

"I kind of wondered how long it would take you to realize…" Spencer had murmured as he looked away from him, trying to contain his laughter.

Derek had frowned as he disentangled himself from Spencer and shifted away.

"You could have just woken me up," he had responded gruffly while he pushed himself out of the bed.

"I  _tried_ … for almost an hour," Spencer had complained. "You have a vice-like grip."

Derek had flushed at the boy's comment, but he was glad that his back was turned and Spencer wasn't made aware of how rattled he was. He had gotten out of bed then, sitting himself at the small desk in the room and had begun to read over case files. It was still early and Spencer had grumbled that he was going to go back to sleep. Derek was glad that Spencer had picked up on the unspoken agreement that nothing more would be said about the spooning incident.

And throughout the rest of the day Derek had been able to somewhat successfully distract himself from Spencer and the effect the boy was seeming to have on him. The agents came and went from each other's hotel rooms when they had theories they wanted to bounce off one another. And as Derek found himself often sitting at the desk with one of his colleagues poring over a casefile, he was glad that, yesterday, they had made a stop back over to Spencer's apartment before checking into the hotel room for the night. It had allowed Spencer to spend most of the day contentedly thumbing through the books he had brought with him. Derek had been impressed by the boy's reading pace. But, more than anything, he liked being able to glance over to Spencer every once in a while and watch the boy who sat curled up in an armchair across the room, eyes lighting up behind his glasses, obviously enthralled by whatever it was he was reading.

If Derek ever had to leave the room to consult with someone or to make a call that he didn't want Spencer to have to overhear, he would ask Emily or J.J. to come sit with the boy. However, as the day progressed, he began to find himself sometimes using this as a ruse in the moments when he just needed air. These 'moments' often arose when he would catch his eyes lingering on Spencer too long, or thinking too much about what an 'us' would be like for them. Just an hour ago, on one of these 'I need some air' breaks, he had called Garcia. Simply just to hear her voice and to escape his own thoughts. Remembering the conversation, he smiled fondly.

" _Derek Morgan!" Garcia responded after she picked up on the second ring._

" _Hey, hot stuff," he said, a smile already taking over his face._

" _You know what, Derek? You've_ _ **barely**_   _called me since you've been on this case! I was starting to get jealous!" Garcia complained._

" _What do you mean, baby girl? You know there's no one else in this world for me," he said with a husky laugh._

" _I'd love to_ _ **believe**_   _that, but you've been so hard to reach I had to ask Jayje what's been taking up all of my chocolate-thunder's time," she said._

_Derek stiffened slightly, mind already flooding with worrisome thoughts about what the two women could have discussed._

" _She said you've been spending a lot of time with that kid, Spencer…that this case has been really hard on him, and he seems to have taken a shine to you._ _ **So**_ _, after hearing that, I guess I can't be_ _ **too**_ _mad at you. And it's kind of sexy when you play your knight-in-shining-armor role," she said flirtatiously._

_Derek smiled, but found that it was somewhat forced._

" _Yeah, mama… this case has been rough. For everyone," he said softly, trying not to linger on thoughts of Spencer._

" _Ugh, I know! Do you believe I didn't know about J.J. getting hurt until a few hours ago!? Rossi slipped when I was updating him on that stuff from the medical examiner. You guys have to be_ _ **careful**_ _. I don't like my babies getting hurt," she said with concern._

" _Will do, mama," Derek said with a sigh._

" _Hey… Derek, you… don't sound like yourself," Garcia said, voice losing her bubbly tone._

" _It's nothing," he quickly replied, smiling at her concern. "I'm just missing home. And missing me some prime PG-interaction."_

_His smile widened as he heard her whole-hearted laugh from over the phone._

" _You really know how to say the right thing, stud-muffin," she said. "I can't wait for you guys to get back."_

" _Well… if the maneuver we're running tonight goes as planned we might have our guy, and I might be home sooner than you think," he said, sobering up._

_His words reminded him that going 'home' meant leaving Spencer. And that was not something he really wanted to think about at the moment._

" _Hmm, that's_ _ **good,**_ _although you don't make it_ _ **sound**_ _like it's good," she said, a hint of suspicion in her voice._

_Derek grimaced a bit at her intuitiveness, and scrambled to make up for his slip._

" _No, I'm just hoping things work out this time. You know we've been chasing this guy and he's always been a step ahead of us. So, I can't help but be a little wary of our chances," he responded, only telling her the partial reason for his hesitance._

" _Yeah, I definitely see that," she said with a sympathetic sigh._

 _" Well, since I have you on the phone and they pay us to get stuff done, not just make phone-babies," she said with a chuckle, "please pass this message on to Sir Hotchner and the rest of the team: I looked into whether or not the Bennington Sanitarium has any record of someone fitting the Unsub's description visiting Diana Reid within the last year. The time-period in which he visited was really non-specific, and in any case, they record over their surveillance footage every month. The best they could give me was the visitor's log which they keep on file for_ _**years** _ _. See, paper has yet to go obsolete. Other than Spencer, Diana has only had one other visitor, and that was 4 months ago. Unfortunately, the man signed his name totally illegibly. The best I could see is that it looks like "John" and something with an "M.""_

 _Derek frowned._ _**J.M.** _ _, he thought to himself._ _**Judgment Maker** _ _._

" _Most likely used a fake name," he responded._

" _I was thinking the same thing. No one on our list has the initials J.M. But, I thought you crime-fighters would still want to know," she said apologetically._

" _We appreciate it, baby girl," Derek said. "I'm gonna go update Hotch and the team."_

" _Hey, Der-bear," she said quickly, before he had a chance to hang up._

" _Yeah, Garcia?" he asked._

" _You know… whenever things are getting rough for you, you can_ _ **always**_   _call me. I have a million and one ways to make you smile," she said._

_Derek shook his head and chuckled, thanking his lucky stars for such a good friend. She always knew when something was wrong with him, even if he tried to deny it. And she also knew not to push it until he was ready to talk. But it was good to know he had an open ear, if and when he needed one._

" _You know I know that, sweetness. But, thank you. I'll keep it in mind," he said._

" _Love you," she said._

" _Love you too, sweet thang," he said before hanging up._

Talking to Garcia had helped to soothe something in Derek he didn't know had needed soothing. He had been spending too much time wracking his brain trying to work out this difficult situation with Spencer. And all it had taken to calm him and help focus his thoughts was a little friendly banter with his favorite technical analyst.

But, now, knowing that it was steadily approaching 6:00, and getting increasingly closer to when they would have to leave for the party, Derek suddenly felt like time had passed too quickly. He was anxious about tonight's plan. They had handled maneuvers like this a number of times in the past. So, he knew it wasn't a lack of faith in the team's ability to pull it off. Nevertheless, he couldn't kick the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was just the  _wrong_  choice to put Spencer in so much danger. But, sighing as he looked down at a text he had just received from Hotch, he knew there wasn't much he could do at this point.

 _We'll be heading out within the hour_.  _Make sure Spencer's good to go_.

"Hey, kid," Derek said as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's almost time to start getting ready."

Derek watched as the happy expression drained from Spencer's face. The boy's eyes dropped from the TV to his lap and he sighed heavily.

"I know you don't really want to do this, but, believe me, I'm gonna be with you every step of the way. I'll be listening in, and as soon as anything seems off, I'll be kicking down the door and storming in," Derek said, trying to force a smile.

Spencer looked up at him and gave him a shaky smile.

"I guess it helps knowing you'll be with me," Spencer said as he instinctively reached out and grabbed Derek's hand.

Derek felt his heart thump in his chest, and was overwhelmed by the urge to reach out and touch Spencer. But—seeing Spencer's dejected expression—what he really wanted, more than anything, was to kiss the kid.

 _When had_ _ **that**_   _development happened?_ Derek wondered to himself.

Usually, it was Spencer's searching glances and demanding touches that ignited things between them. But, now, stuck in this room together, Derek felt like he didn't want to leave and face the real world. As if just staying here would mean they didn't have to face all the obstacles plaguing them—murderous Unsubs, age differences, professional protocol, and the reality of the fact that, very soon, they would have to part ways, putting thousands of miles between them.

Hearing no response from Derek, Spencer looked down to where their hands were loosely linked and he squeezed Derek's hand gently before getting to his feet. Derek watched as the boy shuffled over to the suit bag he had brought into the room last night, and, picking it up, he disappeared into the bathroom.

Derek sat and waited for Spencer for almost half an hour, wondering the whole time what could possibly be taking him so long. But when Spencer did finally emerge from the bathroom, Derek had to school his features to prevent his jaw from dropping. Sure, he had often seen Spencer decked out in his outfits before, but this was the first time he had seen the transformation as it happened. The first time he had been able to appreciate him without the dim lights, loud sounds, and general commotion of the club. The first time he had Spencer all to  _himself_. And it killed him that the kid had to go outside and show this to others. Especially the type of people who would be at the party tonight.

The leggy teen stood in the doorway, looking unsure of himself in a white bow-tie, light-blue sequined vest and tight silver booty shorts. The fabric was thin and clung to Spencer's slender body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Every exposed inch of skin was lightly brushed in shimmering blue and silver powder, from his milky, supple-looking thighs to his blushing cheeks. And his hair was lightly gelled, causing the chestnut-brown tendrils to curl against his forehead. Spencer had told him that the party had a 'fire & ice' theme, and Derek could definitely see Spencer's embodiment of an ice nymph.

"Y-you're staring," Spencer pointed out, as he rubbed his arm nervously.

"Uh, shit, sorry about that kid," Derek said as he glanced away.

"I wouldn't have changed here if I could go back to my apartment… um… sorry if it makes you uncomfortable," Spencer said as he bit his lip and looked down at the floor.

"That's not it at all, kid," Derek said as he stepped forward and grabbed Spencer's shoulders, causing the boy to look up in confusion. "Believe me when I say you're  _killin_ ' it in this outfit."

Spencer blushed hotly at the compliment, looking at him with wide eyes, and Derek wanted to kick himself. He was  _not_  supposed to be saying things like that to Spencer Reid. Releasing the boy's shoulders and stepping back quickly, Derek hurriedly paced over to the other side of the room, where he had left his cellphone on the desk. In an attempt to regain his composure, he made a show of checking his phone before he turned back around to face Spencer.

Spencer was staring at him, looking a bit perplexed, but he didn't seem to be ashamed of the way he looked anymore, which made Derek feel better. But he knew he had to keep himself in check from here on out. He watched as Spencer turned and began rummaging around in his belongings. He then stood and slipped on a tan trench-coat. His outfit disappeared behind the knee-length coat, leaving only the boy's bare calves and boots exposed, and Derek gulped a bit, thinking how sexy it would be to watch Spencer peel off that coat.

"Look," he said as he dragged his eyes away from the boy, "everyone's waiting for us down in the lobby,"

He shoved his cellphone into his back pocket and checked the weapon holstered at his hip, before asking, "You good to go?"

Spencer nodded as he grabbed his bags and walked past Derek heading to the door, but he looked hesitant, and Derek felt his resolve slip. Spencer looked like he was preparing himself to be sacrificed to the wolves, and Derek just couldn't deal with seeing him that way.

"I really shouldn't do this, but…" Derek said on a sigh as he grabbed Spencer's arm, stopping the boy in mid-stride. Before Spencer could question him, Derek grabbed the back of Spencer's head and pulled the boy in close for a quick kiss. Spencer was so surprised he couldn't even reciprocate before Derek pulled away.

"I want you coming back in one piece, so don't do anything stupid out there tonight, ok?" Derek said, already turning and unlocking the door.

Spencer's eyes were still wide in shock as he nodded at Derek's back, following the older man out the door.

* * *

When they arrived in the lobby, the other four agents were waiting for them. Everyone looked somber until they noticed the two approaching, and then they each exchanged quiet smiles with them.

Spencer's eyes lingered on the obvious bruising around J.J.'s eye, that, even with makeup, could still be seen. He cringed at the thought that he had technically been the cause of that injury. He was suddenly reminded about how  _all_  the agents were putting themselves in harm's way to protect him and the thought made his stomach twist. But, he knew that if  _they_ were going to make sacrifices for him, the least he could do would be to toughen up and make sure he could get through the night, for  _them_.

"Hey, Spencer," Emily said, drawing him out of his thoughts, as she held up a small black device with wires hanging down. "We need to get this on you. Mind stepping into this conference room with us?'

Spencer nodded quietly as the group ushered him into the hotel's conference room and closed the door behind them. Emily instructed Spencer to take off the trench coat and it wasn't lost on everyone that she stuttered a bit once Spencer dropped the coat. Only a few of the team had seen him outside of his street clothes, and she definitely hadn't been prepared for it. Spencer blushed awkwardly at her reaction, feeling self-conscious.

Emily gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that. But,  _damn_ , Spencer," she joked, which caused him to blush brighter but he also cracked a small smile.

"Let's get going, Prentiss," Hotch said with an eye roll as he walked up next to her, handing her the double-sided tape they would need to use.

Rossi and Derek hung back by the door, making sure no one came in, as J.J. and Emily began to fuss with the wire while Hotch oversaw. Spencer tried to stand as still as he could as the women ran their hands over his bare chest, but he couldn't wait for them to finish. He let out a sigh of relief once it had seemed they had finally figured out a way to tape the wire to his chest, low enough that it couldn't accidentally be seen through the deep v-neck of his vest, and also flush enough against his skin so that an outline wouldn't show through the thin fabric. It had been difficult to position the equipment strategically and Hotch had seemed like he was even considering calling it off for a second.

"It's ok where it is," Emily said as she stepped back and looked at Spencer critically. "It can't be  _seen_ , but it definitely could be felt if someone touches you in the area where the wire is placed."

Hotch frowned at that, not liking what he was hearing.

"Spencer, this may become a problem for you if someone feels that you're wearing a wire. Even if the person isn't the Unsub, there are enough important people in that building that someone may feel threatened if they think they're being spied on," Hotch said, seriously.

"Don't worry," Spencer said. "I will go above and beyond to avoid being touched by  _anyone_."

Spencer then glanced over Hotch's shoulder, looking meaningfully at Derek who was leaning against the closed door.

Derek looked away as soon as Spencer's eyes met his, ignoring the sound of Rossi's purposeful-sounding cough coming from next to him. Derek knew what Spencer was getting at. He was telling  _him_  that he would avoid being touched, for Derek's sake. Derek couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and possessiveness at the thought, but the rational part of his mind knew it was wrong for Spencer to already think he 'belonged' to him. And it was an added frustration that Spencer's double-meaning wasn't lost on the older profiler standing next to him.

Derek sighed as he pushed away from the door and checked his watch.

"Let's go," he announced. "The party will be starting soon and Spencer needs to be there early to check in."

Hotch nodded in agreement as he handed the trench coat back to the boy in front of him. Spencer mumbled his thanks, feeling his insides start to twist with nervousness again at the thought that he would soon be outside of the protection of the federal agents and left to fend for his own.

Emily placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, seeing that the boy looked lost in thought.

"Don't worry. We'll be with you every step of the way," she promised.

* * *

The Prince's Ball was slated to begin at 7:00pm at a private residence in the Las Vegas suburbs. The team had done a thorough vetting of the party hosts, a Mr. Clyde Warren and his wife, Liza, but nothing about them stood out as fitting their profile. Warren was on their initial list of investors, but he had been weeded out early on as a function of his older age and the fact that he very rarely traveled outside of the state of Nevada. They had received schematics of the 12 bedroom, 8 bath mansion from Garcia and were cognizant of all possible exit points. They were confident the premises were not a trap of any sort and had given the green-light to set up onsite surveillance vans in the area.

Derek was currently driving the large Government-issue Suburban with J.J. seated next to him in the passenger seat and Emily and Spencer in the back. Hotch and Rossi had taken another car and would meet them at the surveillance van after they dropped off Spencer. They knew they couldn't drive straight up to the mansion's gates and let him off, as the Unsub could be watching. They needed the element of surprise and for this operation to work they were relying on the man's guard being down. So Spencer would exit the vehicle a few houses down from the Warren residence and walk. They had LVPD officers in unmarked vehicles stationed on the street to ensure that Spencer actually  _made_  it inside the house and to prevent any kind of an abduction attempt.

Spencer nervously bounced his legs up and down as he looked out the window, watching the bright-lights and busy streets of Vegas disappear in exchange for quieter, suburban roads lined with large houses. Noticing the boy's frown and nervous behavior, Emily leaned over to get his attention.

"So… tell us how the night's going to go down," she asked, drawing the boy out of his musings. "What's the usual protocol?"

Spencer blinked at her, as if he had forgotten anyone else was in the car with him. He flushed slightly at her intense gaze and cleared his throat.

"Well…uh, we check in and are given our assignments. I've usually always taken a server role, but there are uh…performances too. I don't think I'll have to do any of those, but I'm filling in for another guy who had to call out last minute. He likes to… dance. So I'm not sure if he's signed up for it or not," Spencer said.

J.J. turned around with a concerned look on her face.

"Will you be okay if they ask you to do that?" she asked.

Spencer grimaced.

"Well… I'm hoping I can talk my way out of it, if it comes to that. You know, say I don't know the dance."

Emily and J.J. nodded their agreement. Spencer noticed that Derek was remaining particularly quiet.

"So…you mentioned that your coworkers sometimes have to vie for a spot at these parties. How much would you usually get paid for working one of them?" Emily asked.

Derek glanced back at Spencer through the rearview mirror and he saw that Spencer was looking at him too. The boy's eyebrows furrowed and he looked away, giving his attention to the brunette who had asked the question.

"Um… well, it kind of ranges," he said as he shrugged. "Since the parties take up most of the night and you can't pick up a regular shift at the club that day, each dancer tends to get around $500-700 to work a party. The Prince's Ball is kind of a different type of event since it caters to a very specific clientele. You know, like how they only book males for this party. There are always way more female dancers than males in this industry, so they tend to pay more for a gender-specific party. Plus, the guests who  _attend_  the Prince's Ball have particular…um…'tastes,' so they know that they have to sweeten the pot a bit if they want to get dancers to come. So they're paying $1000 for tonight's party."

Emily whistled appreciatively at the high number.

Spencer glanced back up at the rearview mirror and could see Derek looking at him, with a troubled expression on his face. He had purposefully avoided telling Derek that the Prince's Ball was a more high-risk party precisely  _because_  he knew the older man probably would have wanted him to back out.

But it wasn't like Spencer was happy about it  _either_. He hadn't known it was the Prince's Ball that he was agreeing to go to when he had made the deal with Hotch. He only realized it when he went to the club and checked the schedule before asking Lindy for permission to attend. He had never attended a Prince's Ball in the past. All the other parties he had gone to called for both genders and often when the female dancers were in attendance he had a good probability of being relatively left alone. He had heard horror stories about the Prince's Ball, especially those about guests, both male and female, being overly aggressive, and he wasn't looking forward to the people he would encounter.

Spencer sighed as Derek's eyes left the mirror and returned to the road. He didn't want the older man to be upset with him. This whole night was already making him so anxious he felt like he wanted to throw up. Right now all he wanted was Derek's support. But Derek was the type who always wanted to be in control of all outcomes, and Spencer knew he didn't like that he didn't know what they were getting him into. Spencer both loved and hated Derek's protectiveness. It made him feel completely safe, but yet completely babied, all at the same time. Both were foreign feelings for him, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond to them.

"Ok, there it is," Emily said as she stretched her arm across Spencer's line of vision and pointed out the window. "We're going to drop you off about a block down the street. Then we're going to have you call us, to make sure the wire is working, ok?"

Spencer nodded quietly.

"As we said before, you won't be able to hear  _us_ , but as long as the wire is working we can hear everything you're doing. You won't be alone, Spencer," J.J. said as she turned around again and smiled at him.

As Derek stopped and parked the car, Spencer felt his hands start to become clammy with nervousness. Derek turned over his shoulder, looking at the boy sitting there with his head hung down and hands clenched in his lap. Sighing he unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted so that he could lean over to Spencer through the space between the seats. Ignoring the presence of Emily and J.J., whose eyes he could feel on him, Derek reached out and grabbed one of Spencer's hands.

"Kid, listen to what we're saying. You'll be  _fine_. We won't let anything happen to you," he said.

Spencer just nodded as he continued to stare down at his hands.

"Spencer, look at me," Derek said, in a firm tone.

Spencer's head shot up and he met Derek's dark eyes with his wide ones. Staring into Derek's eyes, Spencer felt something lift from his chest and his doubts began to dissipate. Smiling, seeing that Spencer was relaxing, Derek released his hand. Glancing briefly at Emily and J.J. who were giving him surprised looks, Derek coughed and turned back to face the front.

"You have my number, so call me in about five minutes. Walk very casually once you get out; we want it to appear like you're coming from the bus-stop down the street. Stop about one house away from the Warren residence, and then give us the call, ok?" Derek said.

"O-ok," Spencer said as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door.

"Good luck, Spencer," J.J. said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Spencer gave her a small smile as he hopped out of the SUV and closed the door behind him. The three agents watched the boy walk for a few moments, before Derek threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

When Emily, J.J. and Derek made it to the surveillance van parked a street behind the Warren residence, Hotch and Rossi were already situated inside, going over the files Garcia had faxed over. They could see a number of screens showing multiple entrances into the building, and what looked to be staff and caterers coming and going. Hotch looked up, placing the file back on the table.

"Everything alright with Spencer?" he asked, as the agents closed the door behind them and found a place for themselves within the small space.

"He seems pretty scared," J.J. offered. "But… I think he'll be fine."

"He should be calling Morgan's phone any minute now to test out the reception for the wire," Emily informed.

"Ok, good. Morgan and I will handle that. We only have a few minutes before we start, so I want you three to go out and give the officers and field agents a last-minute briefing to make sure we're all on the same page," Hotch instructed.

Rossi, J.J. and Emily nodded as they headed out of the van. When the door closed behind them, Hotch turned to Derek.

"You've spent a lot more time with Spencer than any of us. You think he can pull this off?" Hotch asked, looking at Derek seriously.

Derek sighed as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Whether he  _can_  do it, the answer's yes. The kid's stronger than he looks. But, whether we should be  _letting_  him do it… well, you know my feelings on that," Derek said, giving Hotch a meaningful look.

Hotch sighed and nodded.

"Our top priority is to keep Spencer as safe as we can. I'm confident that we can keep it so that nothing happens to him. We have the premises literally surrounded, and you know our response time will be around two minutes. But, I still hope Garcia will give us something we can use so that we can pull Spencer out before it comes to that," Hotch responded.

Derek nodded silently. That was the best he had to work with for the time being. He then felt his cellphone vibrating in his pocket and he pulled it out.

"It's Spencer," he announced as he read off the display and answered it.

"Hey kid," he said into the phone. "I've got you on speaker."

"Hi," Spencer responded.

"Spencer," Hotch said. "We need to check to make sure that all the equipment is working correctly. We just need you on the line for a few minutes."

"O-ok," Spencer responded.

Hotch then seated himself in front of the monitors and picked up one of the sets of headphones, slipping them over his ears. Turning on the receptor, Hotch was able to hear the background noises being picked up over Spencer's wire.

"Turn off the speaker on your phone, and have him say something. Just have a conversation," Hotch said to Derek.

Nodding, Derek put the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, kid, just try to remember what I said: Don't try to be a hero tonight," Derek said, somewhat playfully.

Spencer laughed slightly. Derek imagined the boy was probably rolling his eyes at the moment.

"I know, I know. Trust me, I'll definitely stay out of trouble. But what do I get if I do a good job?" Spencer asked, a hint of a tease in his voice.

Now Derek was the one rolling his eyes.

"I'll take you out for ice cream," he said with a slight smile.

Spencer laughed a bit louder this time, and Derek couldn't help but to be relieved at the sound. The kid was obviously feeling more relaxed, and he was happy to hear that.

"Make sure it's coffee flavored, and I can tell you where to lick it off from," Spencer teased.

Hotch made a choking sound from his position at the surveillance desk and, turned, giving Derek an incredulous look. Derek's face was on fire and he almost dropped the phone in his panic.

"What the hell, kid!?" Derek barked into the phone.

"H-Hotch, he's kidding,  _totally_  kidding! He has a real warped sense of humor!" Derek rushed out as he turned to look at his supervisor.

He could hear Spencer's laughter over the phone.

"You're going to get me fired!" Derek growled out.

"No worries, Agent Hotchner! Agent Morgan has been nothing but a gentleman with me. I was just making a bad joke," Spencer trilled over the phone.

Hotch shook his head as he pulled off his headphones and got to his feet. Walking over to Derek, he pulled the phone out of his hands, placing it on speaker again.

"Spencer, it's about time for you to head inside," Hotch said in a clipped tone.

"Ok, ok," Spencer said, still trying to hold back his laughter.

"And remember, you won't be able to talk to us, but we can hear anything you say. If you ever feel like you're in danger or you think the Unsub is on to you, just say the safe word, ok," Hotch reminded him.

"Right. 'Pistachios,' got it." Spencer said.

There was a bit of a pause before Spencer's voice came on again, this time sounding far more sober.

"N-nothing's going to happen to me… right?" he asked hesitantly.

Derek cast a worried look over to Hotch who nodded at him.

"No, kid. Don't worry. You've got some of the FBI's finest backing you up. As soon as you say the word, we'll be swarming this place like it's a drug king pin's secret hideout, got me?" Derek asked.

"Got you," Spencer said.

And Derek knew he believed him.

"Ok, I gotta get in there. See you soon," Spencer said, and then the line went dead.

* * *

Half an hour later, as Spencer walked into the party, tray of hors d'oeuvres held out in front of him, the room was already dim, strobe lights pulsing, and deep bass music pounding through the room. Through the crowd of bodies, he could see three male dancers performing aerial silk acts in different corners of the large ballroom. He watched in awe for a minute as the muscled men, decked out in fire-red outfits, sensually twisted and contorted amongst the strips of fabric hanging from the ceiling.

"Funny seeing you here,  _Princess_ ," a voice snarled from behind him.

Spencer jumped, as he turned to look at the blonde, young man, wearing a red version of the outfit Spencer was currently wearing, standing behind him.  _Chris Sheridan,_ Spencer thought, anxiety gripping his insides as he looked into the taller boy's cold, brown eyes.

Spencer knew him from the club, but always went out of his way to avoid him. Ever since Spencer's first day working at  _Mon Petit Chien_ , the older boy had made his life at the club hell. It had been easier to avoid Chris once Spencer started doing the private shows, but Spencer wasn't quite sure what his problem was with him in the first place. Some of his coworkers had told him that Chris may have been jealous because he had always been the club favorite and when Spencer appeared some of Chris' clientele had dropped him in favor of the younger boy. But Spencer had never been one to give much credence to gossip, and he wasn't sure if he should really believe that. The hatred he saw in Chris' eyes, however, always made him nervous.

"Word was floating around the club that our infamous stuck-up little prima-donna had gotten down on his hands and knees and begged Lindy to let him work a party. I wouldn't have believed it, if I hadn't seen you here with my own eyes," Chris said with a sneer.

Spencer looked away and took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Well… here I am, so I guess you can believe it," he said flatly.

"Hmm, well I'll be sure to let everyone know you're suddenly down with what we do here, then, huh? I'm sure a lot of our esteemed customers would love to finally get the chance to take a crack at you," Chris said sarcastically as he walked past Spencer, purposefully shoving him with his shoulder.

Spencer cringed at the threat. Apparently his plan to stay 'below the radar' wasn't going to go as he had hoped. He watched on with a frown as Chris stopped next to a middle-aged man, whispering something in his ear, and then turned, pointing right at him. Spencer flinched as he saw the man's interested eyes land on him, and, wanting to escape his gaze, Spencer quickly slipped behind a throng of people, making his way towards the edge of the crowded room.

For a good amount of time he was able to make it around the party relatively unscathed, as the guests milled about and selected appetizers from his tray. Some people amicably complimented him on his outfit, while others were a bit more aggressive in their leering. He was used to those types of looks however, and always responded with a tight-lipped, yet polite, smile.

As he turned away from a drunk man who was making some type of lewd remark about the shape of his lips, he bumped into two other boys he knew from the club. They were both older than him by about two or three years, but they had always been friendly. Spencer wasn't totally sure of their names—he had  _always_  been bad with names. One of them—Mickey, possibly—was about four inches shorter than Spencer, with a slight build and bright red hair. The other one—possibly named Tommy—was around Spencer's height with shoulder-length dark hair, and a more muscular build.

"Spencer!" Mickey said, eyes wide with excitement. "I  _heard_  you took Axel's spot, but really, I couldn't believe it! You  _never_  come to these things."

Spencer flushed. Apparently he was the current number one topic of gossip at the club.

"Yeah, well… um… money's been a little tight lately, so I figured I could try it out again," he responded.

The two boys nodded sympathetically, and then Tommy threw an arm around Spencer's shoulder.

"Ugh, honey, but I  _know_  you hate these things. So you're a real trooper for coming out. Want a little boost to help you get through it?" he said as he fished around in his pocket and brought out a clear vial.

Spencer stiffened at the offer and hoped that the agents overhearing the conversation wouldn't pick up on the meaning of the exchange.

"Um… n-no. No thanks," he said, shrugging the older boy's arm off his shoulder.

"What? You don't do it anymore?" the redhead asked with a confused expression.

"Really, Spencer, don't tell me you think you're suddenly better than all of us, like everyone's been saying?" Tommy asked, a frown darkening his features.

"I… it's not that I just… things are different for me now," he said, face hot with embarrassment.

"Ooh, different how? Like a 'special somebody' different?" Mickey asked with a grin.

Spencer's face got even hotter. He wondered if it really  _was_  possible to die of embarrassment. He did not need the agents hearing  _any_  of this—especially one of them in particular. Besides, the two men were way off the mark in their assumptions.

" _Please_. Things have been different for me for a  _while_. Ok? Just… can we drop this?" he said, almost pouting. "Thanks for the offer, but no."

"Ok, ok! I love it when you look like a hissing kitty," Mickey said as he playfully shoved Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer shook his head and let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, kid, if you  _do_  have a special someone," Tommy said with a wink, "I'd avoid going over to the tables by the aerial dancers. The guys over there are already more than a couple martinis in and have been especially handsy. I've gotten some really good tips, but I know you're not into that."

Spencer frowned at the news but nodded his thanks at the dark-haired boy. In his opinion, this party couldn't come to an end fast enough.

* * *

When Emily, Rossi and J.J. returned to the van, each was handed a pair of headphones. Everyone would be privy to the audio as they multitasked with reading through files or observing the surveillance videos in search for their Unsub. Derek sat in the farthest corner of the van, by himself, as he silently listened to every sound that came over the headphones. He didn't think he was capable of multitasking at the moment. He didn't like the sound of the first person who had talked to Spencer—practically threatening to throw the reluctant boy to the wolves. Derek hadn't ever thought that people at the club had it out for Spencer, but now it appeared that that might really be the case.

They all listened with worry as Spencer was often spoken to dismissively by the party guests and, worse, when he was treated like an object by them as well. And when the two boys had approached Spencer and struck up a conversation, the agents all glanced at each other in concern, having their own thoughts about what a 'boost' meant.

"Drugs?" J.J. mouthed to Emily, an eyebrow quirked in question.

The brunette grimaced in response and could only shrug and shake her head.

Derek tried to ignore their exchange, turning away from them and focusing back in on the conversations. He had no idea if Spencer had a life like that, and if he did, he wanted to hear it from the kid himself.

"I've got an incoming call from Garcia," Hotch announced as he pulled the buzzing phone from his pocket and tugged off his headphones. Engaging the call, he put it on speaker.

"Ding ding ding, who wants a creepy Unsub back story for the win?" Garcia's excited voice came over the speaker.

"What are you talking about, Garcia?" Emily asked, as she also pulled her headphones off and turned to the phone.

"I think I may have found a really good fit for who our Unsub might be after unsealing some um…sealed records. I'm thinking Adrian Moore is our guy," she announced proudly.

"Moore?" Hotch asked as he rolled over to the small work desk and began to rifle through the files laid out there.

"Yes," he said, recognition evident in his voice, when he found the file. "This one stood out to me, too."

Hotch held up the picture from the file, which showed a handsome-looking man with piercing, dark blue eyes and thick black hair.

"Garcia, tell me what you were able to find out about him," he said.

The other agents leaned in to listen to the technical analyst's report. Some of them, like Derek, still kept their headphones half-on their ears to keep a tab on what was going on inside the building.

"Adrian Moore is the 28-year-old heir to Moore Industries, an import/export company. He was born in California, where his grandfather began the company that Adrian later inherited from his father. His company also has holdings in both Nevada and Arizona. He is basically the face of the organization but apparently doesn't do much in terms of 'running it.' Part of his professional responsibilities includes attending social events like charity balls and other philanthropic functions. Often these coincide with visiting the satellite offices of his company. And, by looking through attendance records, there has always been some kind of event or company-visit that Adrian attended around the same dates as the killings," Garcia read off.

The five agents looked at each other, their thoughts readily apparent on their faces. This sounded like their guy.

"Tell us about his background," Hotch asked. "It's just circumstantial that he was in the towns when the murders were committed. We need to understand his stressor."

"Ok, well, little Adrian Moore had a very bad, but very rich Daddy. It seems Daddy was into some really weird S&M stuff, and abused a lot of women but paid them off to keep them quiet. Mommy didn't like that Daddy was doing all this dark and dirty on the side, and one day Daddy killed Mommy. Apparently little eight-year-old Adrian witnessed it, and even though he told the authorities about what he saw, Daddy was still able to make it seem like Adrian was crazy and that Mommy had died of 'natural causes,'" Garcia stated.

"The official medical report says the mother had an aneurysm and then tumbled down the stairs, causing all the bruising to her body and face. Adrian's version of the story was that his father knocked his mother around, as he often did, and then  _pushed_  her down the stairs. Apparently, there  _was_ documented proof of Mrs. Moore showing up to the E.R. in the past with numerous injuries consistent with spousal abuse, but they were never flagged as domestic violence in her files. In any case, the official cause of death was a bleed in the brain and his lawyers and doctors were willing to sign off on the story that the death was accidental," she continued.

"Little Adrian was sent away to a psychiatric facility and kept there until he was almost thirteen. Then Daddy pulled him out so he could attend boarding school. His school reports say that he excelled academically, but he was withdrawn, antisocial, and extremely rigid in his idea of right and wrong. There are a number of 'incidents' between him and other students involving him getting into fights and um… _choking_  a few of them when he believed they were liars. But, it appears his father was able to make a few big donations to the school and, again, those accusations just disappeared. Adrian went on to graduate from that high school and attended an Ivy League for his bachelor's and MBA. He managed to basically stay off the crazy-radar until he was 23," Garcia said.

"And what happened when he was 23?" Derek asked, pulling himself away from listening to Spencer's wire for a moment.

"His father died," Garcia said simply. "It was a freak accident. He was abroad and apparently was involved in some kind of boating incident."

"I'm guessing that was around the same time as the first killing?" J.J. asked somberly.

"Right on the dot, Jayje," Garcia answered. "He had some kind of meltdown at a public event when he learned about his father's death. He 'took some time off' at some wellness spa, which is rich-people code for 'spent two weeks at a psychiatric hospital.' And the first killing happened only a few days after the doctors cleared him and he got out."

"If Moore believed that his father had wronged him by first murdering his mother, and then shipping him off to be institutionalized for most of his life, he probably felt that the person he most needed to exact retribution on was his  _father_. Having his father die accidentally, though, thousands of miles away from him, instead of by Moore's own hand probably caused him to snap. It's likely he saw these other men as surrogates for his father," Hotch said.

"From the final pieces of background I've been able to gather on all the victims, I'd say you guys' theory that he was killing those who were paying off people they hurt checks out as well. I just got a report in today that Victor LaRoux was accused of propositioning two high school boys but that he was currently in the process of paying off the families to keep them quiet. His wife didn't even know about it. But that was where those large sums of money were going to, and it was bankrupting them. Each victim had something like this in their past," Garcia reported.

"Ok, but how did they all cross paths? And across so many states," Emily asked with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Well, that was another lead I wasn't able to confirm until earlier this evening. Really, our guy was quite smart about his hunting grounds. I was able to discover that he either met these people at the club, which you know is a no-paper-trail kind of place, or at some high-society social function. I didn't have any verifiable information for so long because a lot of these events used paper records to keep track of who did or didn't attend a function. I had to wait for the administrative personnel to track down the guest lists, if they even  _kept_  them from years back, to tell me if and when someone was in attendance. The only saving grace was that, seeing as how many of these events were charitable, the organizations tended to keep the attendance lists because they needed to keep track of who had donated so they could formally thank them later," Garcia responded.

"So you're saying every single one of the victims, at some point, crossed paths with this Adrian Moore character?" Rossi asked.

"Yes, sir," Garcia confirmed. "Every single one. I think we have our guy."

"What about the signet ring? Did you find anything on that front?" Hotch asked, wanting to exhaust all venues of investigation.

"The ring was difficult to confirm, sir. I couldn't find any real 'family crest' connection to the Moore-line, but I did look through the list of Adrian's father's personal effects which were provided in the death report and it did say that he died wearing a ring. It was a police report from overseas so they didn't describe the ring in any real detail. But, all his effects were shipped back to his next of kin which definitely was Adrian," Garcia updated.

"Hmm," J.J. said. "Well, it's likely that ring had some significance for Moore if he used it in all his killings."

"Maybe it was his way of connecting to his father and showing that he was punishing those men the way he couldn't punish his father? The burns were always enacted post-mortem. They weren't part of the sexual thrill the Unsub gained from the kill. It seemed more like they were compulsive," Rossi postulated.

Hotch nodded his agreement.

"And the book that he sent to Spencer?" he asked Garcia.

"Same there. Only a tenuous connection. Moore's father was an avid collector, but it was more of antiques and artifacts. His  _grandfather_  however, was definitely a collector of rare books. I found an old newspaper article saying his grandfather donated a collection of books to a library museum. The list didn't include a first-edition  _The Idiot_ , but it did have a few other Russian works. It's totally possible that books remained with the family and they never registered them with a rare books service, but I can't say for sure," Garcia said.

"It's odd that both the grandfather and father were serious collectors. That's usually a hobby one passes down. Is there anything in Adrian's history that indicates he also has that kind of hobby?" J.J. asked with a furrowed brow.

"Nothing that I can see. From what I've been able to gather he really stays under the radar. Other than having to attend work and social functions, he's basically a ghost," Garcia said.

"Well… he might not have a hobby just  _yet_. But from what we heard on the phone, it sounds like if he starts collecting anything, he might plan to start his collection with Spencer," Rossi said as he shook his head.

Derek whipped around to stare at Rossi in shock, and saw the man cringe slightly at the words he had just uttered. Even though the older profiler's observation was astute and likely correct, Derek couldn't help but feel like he had been punched in the gut. He didn't need to think about this bastard taking Spencer away and keeping him locked up in some room like a prized bird. Derek turned away and stared down at his hands, clenching them into fists as he tried to calm down. Everyone remained silent as they mulled over the troubling words.

"Well… that's a disturbing thought. Let's hope it doesn't get to that point," J.J. said, somberly, finally breaking the silence.

"I think Adrian Moore's the best we have to go on. There are too many things linking up here for this to just be mere coincidence," Emily said as she looked at Hotch.

"I agree," he said, nodding.

"Where is he right now, baby girl?" Derek asked, trying to stay focused on the main goal.

"That, I unfortunately do not know," Garcia said. "He does have an address in Vegas, and also one in California. Although he has been using burner phones to torment  _us_ , there has been a good amount of recent activity on his personal phone in Vegas, so we'd be safe to say he's still in town. But, I can't pinpoint him until he turns his phone on and makes another call. If we're even that lucky."

"If he  _is_ our guy, I'd bet he's inside those doors," Hotch said as he glanced at the displays in front of them. "I can't spare any of us to go over there and check his place out at the moment. So, for the time being, have the LVPD dispatch some squad cars to his residence and sit on it, in case he beats us back there."

"Will do, sir," Garcia said.

* * *

As a passing guest took the last cocktail off his tray, Spencer sighed with relief. An empty tray meant he had an excuse to go back in the kitchen and escape the party for a minute. Turning to head back towards the entrance hall, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Spencer stopped to look behind him and came upon a dark-haired, middle-aged man, dressed in a fine black suit. The man was about his height with dark eyes that were staring at him leeringly.

"Um… yes, how can I help you sir?" Spencer asked.

"One of your friends told me about you. I've been watching you all night and couldn't wait to get a chance to get you by yourself," the man said with a smirk.

Spencer almost groaned out loud.  _Chris Sheridan_ , he thought with distaste.

"Oh, is that right? Well, as you can see, my tray's empty and they don't like it when that happens, so unfortunately I'm gonna have to go make another trip back in the kitchen. So…" Spencer said as he turned to leave.

But then he let out a hiss of pain as he felt the man grab his wrist tightly, and forcefully turn him back around.

"Don't play coy with me, boy," the man almost snarled.

"Ah!" Spencer gasped as he tried to twist his arm away, but found that the punishing grip would not loosen. "Sir, y-you're hurting me. Please let go."

"Why don't you and I go up to one of the private rooms?" the man offered, not releasing him, but lessening the painful grip.

Spencer's eyes widened as he tried to step back from the man. But he wouldn't let him go.

"Sorry sir, I'm really not available," he said, trying to tug his arm free.

"Come on, now, I'll make it worth your while, you know that," the man said, smiling as if he thought Spencer was playing a game.

"No, sir. Really. I don't do that. But I'm flattered," Spencer offered, starting to feel nervous.

"Aww, come on, I know it's fun to act like you don't put out, but you can let me touch, can't you…? And we'll see where things go from there? I'm sure we can make each other feel good. How about one grand to come upstairs with Daddy, huh? Be a good boy," the man said as he pulled Spencer closer and threw an arm around his waist.

Spencer let out a squeal of disgust as he felt the man's hand slip down and begin to palm his bottom.

"I'm  _serious_. Please sir, don't touch me," Spencer pleaded as he tried to push the man away.

"I can touch you above your clothes as much as I want, you dumb slut. This is what I'm paying for," the man snarled.

Spencer gulped and lowered his head in shame as he felt the man continue to knead his ass. It was true—the guests were allowed to touch as much as they wanted. That was part of his  _job_ , and he didn't have a right to decline _._ The man seemed like he wanted to take advantage of that, and Spencer didn't know how to get away without making a scene.

Then, almost as if by divine intervention, someone called out "Collins!" and the man holding Spencer loosened his grip. Spencer felt someone walk up next to them, but he was so ashamed of what he had been just subjected to that he couldn't even bring himself to look up.

"Hey, I've been looking for you," the new voice was saying. "The governor's aide is here. I want to introduce you two."

As 'Collins' turned around, Spencer took advantage of the opportunity to escape and quickly walked as fast as he could—short of running—out of the ballroom. Once he was out into the hall, the loud, raucous noise of the party inside quickly disappeared. There were a few people milling around outside in the hall, and Spencer made sure to turn a corner into the next deserted hallway, before he finally let himself slide down against the wall. He was shaking as his heart pounded in his chest. He gulped down a huge breath to steady himself.

With trembling hands, he grabbed his vest, and whispering down into his shirt, he breathlessly said: "I'm ok, I'm ok. Agent Morgan… Everyone, I'm fine. Don't come. You  _don't_  have to come."

* * *

The shaky words coming across Spencer's wire were the only thing that had stopped Derek from bursting out of the surveillance van. Hotch had been yelling at him to sit down during the whole exchange, but Derek had paid him no mind, snapping "You don't know what he's been through!"

Hotch had given him a hard stare at that comment, and asked him if he would be able to remain objective. Derek had had no response. But everyone breathed a sigh of relief once they heard Spencer's whispered words of reassurance and the situation inside the van had quickly deescalated.

"This is despicable. He's being treated like a piece of meat," J.J. said as she flung her headphones off. "Hotch, is it ok if I just… can I just read the files? I can't sit here and listen to this anymore."

Hotch looked at her with an understanding expression and nodded as he sighed. He then glanced at each member of the team, who all looked equally troubled.

"I understand this is difficult for all of you to sit here and do nothing. Especially with how much time we've been spending with Spencer lately. But, don't forget why we're here. Our mission isn't to save Spencer from the cards he's been dealt. Unfortunately, this is the life he's living and we have to be able to see that for what it is. What we're  _here_ for is to catch a serial killer. We can't jump in every second something questionable arises as a function of Spencer's  _job_. Until, and unless, we hear a crime being committed we  **cannot**  act," Hotch said.

Derek let out a huff of disbelief. To him, everything these despicable people were subjecting Spencer to seemed like a  _crime_.

Rossi glanced in the direction of his troubled-looking younger colleague and sighed.

"We don't have eyes inside the venue. Spencer's the best person to gauge his comfort level. He knows what to say to get us in there. If he needed us, he would let us know. We have to trust in his ability to handle himself," Rossi said to the room, but the message was meant particularly for Derek.

Murmuring their agreement, the others replaced their headphones. As Derek placed his over his ears he cast a glance in Rossi's direction and watched as the man gave him a subtle nod, hoping to convince him that everything would be okay.

* * *

All throughout the night, dark-blue eyes had been following the svelte form of Spencer Reid. From across the dimly-lit room, the man could still see Spencer so clearly. The boy stood out like a beautiful, silver beacon. His pale body was complemented so well by the clothes he was wearing that the man found himself entranced with the boy's every move. He loved the way the boy's long limbs flexed with every step. He loved those large, light-brown eyes. He even loved that little diamond-shaped mouth. The thought of having him all to himself caused a tremor to run through the man's body and his grip tightened on the cocktail glass in his hand.

When the man had gotten the call from Lindy Roth last night informing him that Spencer had, last minute, asked to attend the Prince's Ball, the man had been perplexed. He  _knew_  Spencer. From the first time he saw him at one of these events, he knew the boy strongly dreaded the parties. Something had seemed peculiar about his decision, and the man wondered briefly if it was some type of farce. But, then Ms. Roth had flippantly said that, "Well, we all go through rough patches. The kid's been feeling the strain of losing customers after… well… the 'incident.' So, I can't say it's really a surprise."

The man had laughed then. Yes, Spencer was 'losing customers,' but really, wasn't that for the best? Spencer didn't need to do such a demeaning job as dancing at  _Mon Petit Chien_  anymore. No, the man was going to make sure of that. When Spencer came to live with him, the boy would have the best of the best.

 _But_ , the man thought with a smirk,  _if the boy wants to dance for_ _ **me**_ …  _well, who am I to say no_?

So, after hearing the news from Ms. Roth, the man had known he had to come to the party as well. He, himself, often avoided the events unless there was a business venture related to it. But, this was a rare opportunity. The man knew that the Federal goon-squad that was currently sticking infuriatingly close to Spencer kept their distance when the boy was at 'work.' He figured they thought the man would not attempt to approach the boy in a crowded venue. And, it was true that that wasn't his preferred 'style.' But, really, the man had had enough. They weren't going to stand in his way anymore. He was tired of waiting.

After the inconvenient run-in with the agents at the hotel, the man had decided that he wasn't going to let them ruin his plans anymore. Granted, it was fun to take a few shots at Jennifer when she had ambushed him in the hallway. If he hadn't been so amused by the thought of showing them how really out of their element they were, he would've just shot the small blonde woman when she was down instead of trying to knock her out in the stairwell. But, he honestly had no real interest in killing her. The women, while annoyingly mother-hen like when around Spencer, were only  _protecting_  his boy. He could understand. Spencer was the kind of boy who just made you want to take care of him. The real one he wanted to put a bullet in had been the swarthy, muscular and cocky man sleeping—with his  _boy_ —behind that hotel door. The thought of it just incensed him.

If Jennifer hadn't come out of her room at that point, the man knew he could have easily slipped into the room occupied by the sleeping Derek Morgan. He hadn't known what he was going to find, but he had told himself that even  _if_  Spencer was being unfaithful the boy could be trained to be better. He would have to be punished for his infidelity, of course, but the man would still take him in. In any case, he wanted to put an end to Derek Morgan. Before he had left for the hotel, he had thought for hours about whether he would do it execution-style, or if he would force the cocksure agent to wake up and stare down the barrel of his gun.  _That_ would be exhilarating. But, there were so many things that could go wrong, especially with Spencer in the room, that the man had told himself he couldn't let himself be overcome by passion. He had to stick to the plan.

But the plan had been  _ruined_ , and while it had been entertaining to lead those two dark-haired men on a wild-goose chase, he lamented the fact that Spencer had, yet again, slipped out of his grasp.

 _Never again_ , the man thought as he watched the boy smile politely as he handed a martini over to a tall woman.

The man had intended to stay close to Spencer tonight, observing the boy below his radar. Just like he had the first time he had ever seen Spencer in person. At a party just like this one. But, he had had to step in when he saw Rick Collins, a disgusting wall-street leech, grab Spencer tightly.

 _How impudent_ , the man had thought with disdain.

So he had called out to Collins, pretending to be interested in introducing him to some of his political contacts. Collins was always interested in social climbing and his eyes had lit up at the offer. The man had only had eyes for Spencer, however, as he watched the boy with his head hung low and shoulders slightly trembling. This close to Spencer for the first time in as long as he could remember, the man thought he could smell cinnamon wafting off of the boy's skin. It had made his mouth water. But he didn't know if it had been his imagination.

Spencer had not even chanced looking up at the man. It would have been alright if he did, however. The man knew Spencer had no idea what he looked like. He had wanted to stare into the boy's eyes, and, with a look, tell him "I'm here to save you." But, instead, the boy took the opportune distraction as a chance to slip away from him and Collins. And as the man watched Spencer practically run out of the ballroom, he had let him go. He could comfort the boy to his heart's content later.

Later… He had plans. The man  _always_ had a plan. He was going to make sure Spencer didn't have the chance to slip away from him again. He would get the boy alone tonight, and he would convince him that it was time to be together. And, well… if Spencer wasn't willing to be convinced, the man had other ways of getting what he wanted.

* * *

An hour later, Spencer sighed as he yet again stepped outside into the expansive entrance hall. He was on his way back to the kitchen after having been instructed to start bringing out the harder liquor. It was just past 10 pm and the night's main entertainment was about to start. It would consist of a rather risqué strip show, and Spencer was happy he was outside of the room at this point. This was the part in the night when the lights had started getting lower, and he could see more and more entangled bodies locked in embraces writhing on the couches that were littered around the perimeter of the room. He had also watched more than a few guests and dancers disappear up the stairs.

Walking down the long, deserted hallway as he listened to the pulsing music and enthusiastic cat-calling die down behind him, Spencer could only think about how grateful he was that the night wasn't going nearly as badly as he had imagined. He had been prepared to be manhandled all night, so that came as no surprise. But he had not had a single encounter that stood out to him as anything particularly out of the ordinary and he was starting to think this "Unsub" character just wasn't going to show. But he was more than happy about that. While he knew the agents needed the man to show himself, if they had any hopes of apprehending him, Spencer honestly would be happier if he, personally, never had to come face to face with their Unsub.

As he walked past a set of tall, heavy oak doors that were pushed partially open, he heard something that caused him to stop.

"Hey! You, I need some help in here," a voice called from within.

Spencer frowned in confusion as he looked around the empty hallway.

"Uh… me?" he asked as he stepped closer to the doors. Peeking inside slightly, he couldn't see the entire expanse of the room, but from what he  _could_  see the room looked to be a large, well-appointed library. It was quite beautiful.

"Yes, you! Come in here quick," a man said as he suddenly appeared in front of Spencer's line of vision.

Spencer stepped back in shock, not having been expecting someone to appear so suddenly. He looked up at the man, who was probably two or three inches taller than him, and stared into captivating dark-blue eyes. The man smiled at him, with perfect white teeth and Spencer found himself thinking he was definitely handsome. But Spencer didn't remember seeing him during the party.

As the man put his arm around Spencer's shoulder and ushered him into the room, Spencer was perplexed. He didn't understand what this person could possibly want, or even  _why_  he was in the library when most of the other guests were either in the ballroom watching the show or upstairs getting up to… other devices. He definitely knew this room was off-limits for party guests. But Spencer had no idea what the hosts looked like, and wondered if maybe this person was related to them, or maybe he was part of the event-planning staff.

As the door clicked shut behind him, and Spencer walked further into the room, letting himself take in more of the beautiful, yet deserted, library, he found himself remembering that the man had said he needed help with something. Eyebrows furrowing slightly, he realized that he had come in without asking the man what it was that he actually wanted.

"Um, I'm just hired help for this party. I doubt I know much about whatever it was that you needed. But maybe I can find someone else to help you," Spencer offered as he turned around.

But when he turned, he was surprised to see that the man was standing right behind him, so close that Spencer had to jerk his head back to avoid bumping noses with him.

Spencer stepped back and looked at the man uncertainly.

"Well, no need to worry about that," the man said with a smile. "I really just wanted to get a chance to talk to  _you_."

Spencer winced, wanting to kick himself for his stupidity, as he backed up further into the room. The man was standing in front of the door, blocking it, and Spencer wasn't sure he could get around him if he made a run for it. He felt his heartrate quicken as the gravity of his situation set in, but he tried to calm himself down. There were  _rules_  for these parties, and the guests were always sure to follow them to a 'T.' They couldn't maintain their alternative lifestyle if they couldn't trust each other and the rules helped to guarantee that. Spencer knew the library was off-limits for engaging in any 'activities,' and unless this man was crazy, Spencer believed that he wouldn't try anything.

He stopped backing up as he felt the hard, wooden edge of the back of the leather sofa digging into his spine.

"Don't look so scared," the man said, chuckling. "Like I said, I just want to talk."

Although the man's words sounded genuine, and he was smiling, his eyes remained cold. It made something twist uncomfortably in Spencer's stomach.

"Uh… sir, as you know, this is one of the rooms that are off-limits for the party so… I really don't think we should be in here," Spencer said, gripping the chair behind him in nervousness.

"Don't you find the atmosphere out there to be so garish? Nothing but a bunch of dogs in heat, really. And so loud. I like it better in here. I feel like you would too," the man said as he started walking towards Spencer.

Eyes widening, Spencer quickly moved around the couch, putting it between him and the approaching man.

"Well, you see… I have a  _job_  to do, so I can't stay in here with you. E-even if it's just to talk," Spencer answered.

"Well, it's exactly  _because_  you have that job to do that I think you should sit down and have a chat with me. You're getting  _paid_  to make the guests happy, aren't you?" the man asked, smiling again. But this time, Spencer felt there was something sinister about the smile.

Sighing heavily, Spencer felt resigned to his fate. There was no one else here and even though the man was wearing a finely-made casual suit, he could see signs of his obvious musculature under the material. He doubted he could overpower him. And, in Spencer's opinion, this hadn't yet escalated to a situation where he should use the safe word and call the agents in. He had yet to discover if the 'Unsub' was at this party and if he called them in too early he would run the risk of ruining their whole operation. He had made the stupid decision to follow this man into this room, alone. So it was  _his_  responsibility to get himself out of it. He had faith in his ability to talk his way out of dicey situations.

"Ok," Spencer said as he hesitantly sank down on the leather sofa. "We can talk for a little bit… and  _just_ talk. B-but then after that I really need to get back to work."

The man smiled again and came around the other side of the sofa, taking a seat.

"I've been watching you all night. I really appreciate how you don't seem interested in the…seedier elements of this event. I was really impressed by the number of amorous suitors you've turned down. I don't like sluts, Spencer," the man said pointedly.

Spencer flinched and his eyebrows rose. He stared at the man in confusion.

 _He… just called me_ _ **Spencer**_ , he thought, worriedly. It wasn't customary for guests at the parties to know the dancer's names. Not unless the dancer introduced himself. Spencer couldn't think of a single reason why this man would know his name. He didn't think he had ever met this man before, although something about him did  _seem_  vaguely familiar.

 _Maybe… maybe this is another thing that jerk Sheridan set up?_  Spencer wondered to himself.

But the man was still talking.

"I have always wondered how people like you get caught up in this world. It poisons you, and turns you into something lesser… But you… you seem to be one of the few who have kept their scruples about them. You really stand out," the man breathed as he leaned in.

Spencer found himself instinctively backing up, but there was nowhere to go as his side bumped into the arm of the chair.

"Come here," the man said, eyes darkening as they roved over Spencer's form.

"Wait, no," Spencer said as he pushed away from the man. "That's not—you said you just wanted to talk!"

"I lied," the man growled out as he grabbed Spencer's wrists and pulled him closer, forcing him to lie prostrate on the couch, and straddled him.

"Stop! Wait! You can't do this! Please," Spencer said as he struggled.

"I just want to touch you. I've been waiting for so, so long," the man purred as his free hand went to Spencer's chest, stroking against the bare skin peeking through the vest. "Let's get this off."

Spencer stiffened, remembering the wire that was taped to his skin under the clothing. Thinking quickly, Spencer tried to relax and forced himself to smile up at the man seductively.

"H-how about you first?" he asked, forcing a sultry tone into his voice.

The man paused and looked at him quizzically. Then a grin passed over his features and he sat back releasing Spencer's wrists.

Spencer let out a soft sigh of relief. He was hoping the man would let him go long enough to undo his shirt and maybe he could escape then. But as the man's hand went to his collar and began to unbutton the shirt, Spencer's eyes widened as dark ink was revealed on the man's collarbone. It was a tattoo. It was  _familiar_.

Spencer couldn't understand it. He couldn't  _believe_  it. Was  _he_  the man? The person he had seen that horrible night in the club? The man who had sent all the gifts? The one who made all those terrifying calls? Spencer thought he would at least remember the man's voice. The chilling timbre was ingrained in his head. But then, he realized, there  _were_  some things familiar about this man's voice, even down to the language he used. It sounded like that of the person on the phone, and yet it didn't. And then it dawned on him: he had used  _modulation_.

Spencer stared on in horror as the man looming over him shirked off his dark gray dress shirt, revealing a powerful chest and a sprawling tattoo that snaked across his collarbone and shoulder blades. And he was suddenly frozen with terror. He had forgotten all plans to escape. He couldn't  _move_. He couldn't believe that he had willingly walked into a room with a sociopath. A man who had  _murdered_ numerous people. How could he not have known?

And then something was clicking in Spencer's head. Where he had remembered seeing the man before—why he looked vaguely familiar. He had seen his picture two nights ago in the photo lineup Derek had showed him. He remembered quickly swiping past the picture because he had barely recognized him  _then_. But, now, his memory quickly did what it was best at—remembering words—and generated the name associated with the image:  _Adrian Moore_.

Adrian grinned, seeing that recognition had finally dawned on Spencer.

"I never thought you'd be so eager so soon," he breathed as he placed his hands on Spencer's thin shoulders. "But I'm happy you'd accept me. Unlike all those other men."

Spencer cringed and turned his face away. The man sounded so  _flattered_.

When Spencer felt the man's hands slide down his arms, he had to fight to hold back his repulsion. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he started to feel like he couldn't breathe. His thoughts were racing in his head, making him dizzy. All he wanted to do was get out of there. He was tired of being constantly in fear—tired of being the victim.

"Don't touch me!" he said as he brought his hands up, shoving hard at the man's chest.

Adrian hadn't been expecting Spencer's resistance and the force of the boy's shove pushed him off enough for Spencer to twist and scramble half off the couch. But Spencer wasn't quick enough, and the man grabbed his shoulders, pressing him down onto the couch, chest-first.

"What's with this all of a sudden? Why so shy? You're acting like a scared little virgin," Adrian said as he chuckled.

"I  _am_  a virgin," Spencer spat, unthinkingly, as he looked over his shoulder angrily.

But then his mouth went dry as he saw something change in the man's eyes. It was a mix of disbelief, awe and…  _arousal_.

"You're lying…" Adrian said, almost breathlessly.

Spencer cringed in disgust as he could feel the man's obvious hardness pressing against him.

Then his eyebrows drew down in determination. This was  _not_ going to happen to him.

Spencer bucked his hips backward, attempting to throw the larger man off of him. He was able to get partially out from under him and, twisting around, he brought the heel of his hand up against the bottom of the man's chin. Adrian cried out in pain, but he was determined as well and quickly returned Spencer's blow with a slap to the boy's face. Spencer gasped in shock as he fell back down to the couch.

"This is what I was talking about," Adrian said, eyes flashing wildly and voice hardening with his anger. " _This_ is why you need to be trained! You don't know how to behave!"

Spencer was terrified as he watched the irate man above him. He knew he needed help, but he wasn't sure if help would come before it was too late. And, suddenly, remembering that others were listening, he knew he needed to alert the team before the man realized what was going on.

"I-I want to eat pistachios in the library!" he suddenly blurted out. "Pistachios in the library!"

"What?" Adrian asked, face reflecting his confusion.

But suddenly it seemed as if something had dawned on him, and, with a snarl, he reached down and grabbed Spencer's vest, tearing it with the force of his grip.

And then it was like time stood still. Spencer stared on in horror as the wire taped to his chest was revealed, and he watched the man's face change, as if morphed by rage.

"What… what the fuck is  _this_!?" Adrian screamed as he stared down at the wire. "You traitorous little shit!"

Before Spencer could open his mouth to respond, he felt hands closing around his throat.

* * *

As Derek listened to the loud sounds of the party dying out and Spencer responding to someone asking him for help, he gritted his teeth.

 _What is this kid thinking_? He wondered angrily to himself. He had specifically told Spencer not to do anything stupid. And going anywhere in that house that wasn't a part of the plan was definitely the epitome of  _stupid_.

He listened as the sounds of the party completely disappeared and his hands balled into fists as he realized Spencer had gone somewhere  _secluded_  with this stranger. And from the sounds of it, it was behind a closed door. He glanced at his colleagues and could see that they all looked similarly troubled about what they could hear taking place in that room.

"That voice…" Emily murmured to herself. "Something about it seems familiar."

But barely anyone registered her comment as they all found themselves engrossed in what they were listening to over the headphones.

As the conversation progressed and he caught on to what the man wanted, Derek wondered how Spencer would get out of this. When he heard the man actually refer to the boy as  _Spencer,_ Derek looked to Hotch. He could see that Hotch's hands were clenched into fists atop the work desk and the man's mouth was drawn down into a grim frown. Although Hotch was worried, he didn't give the order to move in—he didn't want to botch the mission if Spencer would be able to extract himself from the sticky situation.

"Spencer hasn't given the signal," Hotch said, face tight, as he continued to listen carefully to the interaction. "We have to wait for him to tell us he needs us."

Fear gripped Derek's insides. It seemed that trouble always seemed to find Spencer. He didn't  _want_ to wait for things to get so bad that Spencer 'needed' them. This man—whoever he was—didn't  _sound_  like their Unsub, but based on the clear fear he could hear in Spencer's voice, Derek couldn't be certain that the man wouldn't hurt the boy. He didn't know if he could really sit there and do nothing while Spencer was in there by himself. And he was even more worried because he knew Spencer's go-to reaction was to fend for himself. He wasn't  _used_ to relying on others. He feared that Spencer wouldn't know to ask for help until things had gotten too far out of hand.

"He… he can get out of this," J.J said softly, as if she was trying to convince herself. "He'll be ok."

But, to Derek, something just felt wrong about this. More than just the fact that he had to sit and listen to Spencer's scared voice as he tried to talk his way out of a situation where it was obvious the man was interested in more than just  _talking_. Something… something else seemed off. His subconscious wouldn't let go of the fact that it was too coincidental that on the same night they sent Spencer into this party to bait their Unsub he ended up sequestered in some room with an unknown male. And although Derek's mind was keyed up to look out for their Unsub, the man in the room with Spencer just didn't  _sound_  like the man they had spoken to yesterday. But little words and phrases were tugging at his subconscious, causing his stomach to twist anxiously.

And when the man finally showed his true colors, and Spencer yelled out "Don't touch me!" a tense silence filled the van as the team listened to the muffled sounds of fabric moving, Spencer's quick breaths and what appeared to be an obvious struggle. Derek was on his feet when he heard the sound of skin hitting skin, followed by the man's pained cry. He knew—he just  _knew_ —Spencer was now in far more danger. And when the man's cry was followed by an audible slap and the sound of Spencer gasping in pain, Derek turned infuriated eyes on to his superior.

"Hotch!" Derek barked, arms raised in desperation, trying to will the older man to act.

"Morgan, we can't! Not until we know there's no other choice," Hotch said, attention still on the scene playing out over the headphones.

Then the man was screaming at Spencer, talking about how the boy needed to be trained, and Derek had a sinking feeling in his stomach _. That_  was more than just familiar. There was the possessiveness. There was the delusion. And Derek immediately knew it in that moment: Spencer was in there with the Unsub.

They then heard Spencer's quick, frightened voice saying "Pistachios in the library!" and everyone else in the van was instantly on their feet.

"Go, go, go!" Hotch yelled, not wasting a moment.

But Derek was already kicking the doors to the van open and had hit the ground running.

* * *

Eyes wild with rage, Adrian Moore pressed his hands into Spencer's throat, restricting the airflow and causing the boy's eyes to bulge in panic. Flailing his arms out, in an attempt to fight him off, Spencer clawed and pushed at the man on top of him.

Fear and panic were roiling within him as he struggled with the crazed-looking man looming over him. Suddenly, a multitude of jumbled thoughts were flying through his head. He wondered if he would ever see his mother again. Would he die here on this couch, dressed up in trashy clothes and with no one to hold his hand? And where were the agents? They told him he wouldn't be alone. Had they broken their promise? Were they going to abandon him? Would  _Derek_  abandon him?

As Spencer felt hot tears spring to his eyes, he was vaguely aware of the sound of what he thought was wood splintering. His ears were buzzing, distorting all the sounds around him. His consciousness was wavering, eyesight growing blurry.

He thought he could hear shouting and commotion—someone that maybe sounded like Derek—but the one thing he was sure of was that the hands around his neck had suddenly tightened and he was terrified that instead of choking the air out of him the man would snap his neck with the sheer force of his grip. Then Spencer heard a loud sound—a pop! Then two more loud pops and he felt something warm and wet spray on his face and the pressure on his neck simultaneously lessening.

Opening his eyes, which he hadn't even known he had squeezed tightly shut, and quickly taking in a huge gulp of air, Spencer saw the man poised above him, face frozen in a grimace of pain and anger. Then the man's eyes slipped shut and he collapsed on top of Spencer. And then everything went black.

* * *

"Kid! KID! Open your eyes! Come on! Spencer, open your eyes!" Derek was almost screaming as he patted Spencer's cheek, hoping to revive the unconscious boy.

Derek was near a state of panic as he leaned over Spencer's prostrate body, while Emily and J.J. crowded around him, calling encouragingly out to Spencer as well. Although the boy's face was splattered with the Unsub's spilled blood, Spencer just looked like he was peacefully sleeping. But he wasn't. Spencer wouldn't wake up.

"Medics!" Hotch was yelling behind him, among all the commotion. "Get a medic in here now!"

Derek bowed his head and gripped Spencer's pale shoulders tightly, mentally willing the medics to get here as fast as they could. The only reason why he wasn't currently destroying everything in sight in a blind rage was because he could feel a pulse throbbing at the boy's thin wrist. That was helping him to keep a reign on his emotions. But, Spencer was unconscious and it was scaring him. A person could be alive and brain-dead at the same time. Derek didn't know exactly how long Adrian Moore had been choking Spencer, or what kind of damage the man had been able to do. Even though Derek was sure he had left the van as soon as he was sure Spencer was in trouble, he had no way of knowing whether he had reached the boy in time.

He felt almost suffocated by the thoughts plaguing his mind. Derek didn't know how to think about this rationally. To him, there was no silver-lining to this situation. He knew that the crumpled form of Adrian Moore was lying only a few feet away from them, three bullet holes to the chest. They had succeeded in taking down a prolific serial killer. He should have felt relief, vindication, or some form of accomplishment... But he didn't care about any of that. None of it would mean anything if he ultimately lost Spencer.

"Derek!" Emily said with a gasp, and Derek's head shot up, eyes locked on Spencer's face.

Spencer's eyelids were fluttering and then a second later, Derek was staring down into confused, honey-brown eyes.

"Holy shit, Spencer!" Derek said, with nothing but relief in his voice. "You had us all really scared, kid."

Derek had to hold himself back from enveloping Spencer in a hug, he was so happy.

Spencer coughed lightly and then gave Derek a small smile.

"I did?" he asked sheepishly, voice a bit hoarse.

"Spencer!" J.J. was saying as she pushed her worried face into his line of sight. "Are you ok? How do you feel?"

Spencer coughed again and twisted his body, as if trying to figure out if he was injured in any way. He blushed as he realized he was lying in Derek's arms on what he imagined was the library's floor. But he felt safe and protected where he was, and so he made no attempt to remove himself.

"I think I'm fine… um, I guess I just passed out for a little bit there?" Spencer asked, quietly.

"It felt like an eternity!" Emily said as she came to stand behind the kneeling Derek and J.J.

Spencer looked ashamed to have caused them so much worry.

"Please, don't worry. I'm really ok. I feel fine," Spencer promised, as he looked up at all of them.

Spencer could see that Derek looked far from convinced, and his breath caught a bit in his chest as he took in the man's pained expression. Derek looked especially worried. Spencer wondered if the older man had thought he was going to die.

"Der-" Spencer began but his words were cut off as they heard a number of people shouting 'Medics!' and 'Where are the injured parties?'

Derek gave Spencer a small smile, concern still evident on his face, as J.J. and Emily stepped back out of the way. Then abruptly Spencer's vision was flooded by numerous EMT personnel as they fired off questions to him about his medical condition. Spencer began to feel claustrophobic with all the noisy and unknown people crowding around him. He was suddenly even happier to feel Derek's strong chest behind him. And when he felt the cold press of a stethoscope to his bare chest, he jumped at the shocking sensation and grabbed Derek's shirt. Derek leaned in closer to Spencer, wanting to let the boy know he was there for him.

"Sir, we're going to need you to step back so we can do our job," one of the EMTs began saying to Derek.

Derek felt Spencer's hand close around his own, gripping tightly, and Derek frowned at the EMT who had addressed him.

"I'm not going anywhere without this kid," he said flatly, indifferent to what J.J and Emily would think of his words.

The EMT held Derek's eyes for a moment, and apparently what he saw there was something he didn't think he could win against.

"Fine," the man said with a sigh, as he turned around, putting the stethoscope back in his bag. "Then help me get him on the stretcher."

* * *

A/N: Ah! So there we have our Unsub! Revealed and killed off, all in the same chapter, haha! Well, I hope you were happy with his rise and fall! It might have been a bit more anticlimactic than you guys would have hoped for, but I was really ready to get rid of him so Spencer and Derek could just be  _alone_ together ;P And, don't worry about poor Spencer. He's totally fine (spoiler? Lol), and good to go for next chapter's 'activities.' ;p

Also, if anyone's thinking Derek's sending hella mixed messages well… haha, I  _know_. He definitely is. But, it's intentional. I think this is all really confusing for him too, so he's going to make some mistakes. His brain's saying one thing but his emotions are saying another. So…it'll be fun to see how Derek works through that in the next (and FINAL!) chapter. Can we say 'smut' anyone? :}

See you soon my loves!

xoxo


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer:  I do not own Criminal Minds.  It is the sole intellectual property of the CBS corporation.  This is a work of fiction and I am making no profit.

A/N: First off, as always, thanks for all your reviews and support! It has been so fun (and motivational) to hear from those of you who are enjoying this story, and I probably wouldn't have been able to create this without you guys :). And a big super-duper thank you to my beta-reader, Eskimita, for her help throughout this process! This chapter is unfortunately not beta-ed, so please forgive any craziness, haha.

So here's the final chapter! Ah! This story started off as this tiny (crazy?) little idea, and it turned into a 13 chapter (almost 300  _page)_ undertaking. But I definitely enjoyed it and I am so happy this was my first foray into writing for Criminal Minds! You guys have been the best! I hope you've enjoyed everything so far and will like the way I've chosen to end it. One little heads up: this story was categorized as Angst & Drama; I never actually  _said_  it was a 'Romance.' So, maybe some of you won't be so pleased with my ending. My main goal in this story was to try to keep things realistic, and this, to me, seemed like the most-fitting ending. However, I do give you a smattering of some (much awaited?) smut in this final chapter (although, again, maybe it's not  _exactly_  what you were hoping for, but the story has definitely earned its rating, hehehe).

Please also make sure to read my closing author's note as it talks about what I intend to do  _after_  this story!

Thanks as always! I hope you've enjoyed the ride!

xoxo

* * *

Derek watched on as Spencer obediently sat on the back of the ambulance while an EMT shone a light into his eyes. By the time they got outside, Spencer had insisted he was fine and didn't need to be on the stretcher. His vitals had checked out and the techs had allowed him to get off the stretcher as they needed it for other people. Apparently the presence of the FBI had caused a bit of a stampede and a few of the party guests had been injured while trying to escape the premises. Derek cynically wondered if those people had been trying to get away because they knew they had been involved in criminal activities and were just trying to save their own hides.

He continued to watch silently as the techs wiped Spencer's face down with an antiseptic cloth to make sure that none of the blood spatter on the boy's face was actually coming from any open wounds on him. Once they were satisfied that Spencer wasn't bleeding anywhere, they had switched to inspecting the bruising around his throat. Spencer had protested when they suggested he ride with them to the hospital to get a thorough examination. He said he felt fine and he just wanted to go home.

The EMT sighed as he stepped back from Spencer and clicked off his penlight.

"It seems everything's fine from my cursory examination, but I'm going to reiterate that I  _really_  think you should still come by the hospital for a full workup," the technician said with a frown.

Spencer rolled his eyes, but smiled at the concerned man.

"I said I'm fine," he said, wincing as he heard the croak in his voice.

"Kid, don't be so stubborn," Derek said as he stepped up closer to them and leaned down to take a better look at the developing purple marks mottling the boy's slender neck. "These look painful. And your voice already sounds messed up."

Spencer flushed at the agent's proximity. For some reason he could handle it when  _he_  invaded Derek's space, but not the other way around. It made him all fidgety and nervous. Sitting back slightly, the boy crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's not like they can do anything at the hospital to make it any better," Spencer said matter-of-factly. "It's  _bruised_. There's not some magic cure-all for that. The most they're going to do is give me some painkillers and tell me to rest. I can rest in my own bed, and I definitely don't want the kind of drugs they're going to give me at the hospital. So I'd rather just go home."

Derek blinked in surprise at hearing Spencer's disinterest in the hospital-grade drugs. His subconscious couldn't help quickly flitting to the conversation he had overheard on the wire, and the obscure discussion about drugs. He would have to remind himself to follow up with Spencer a bit later about that. He was sure that would be yet another difficult conversation—as most were with Spencer—but if the kid had a problem and needed help, Derek would try to be there any way he could.

"Fine," Derek said begrudgingly as he shoved his hands into his pockets, "but I'm not letting you go home alone. You need to be watched over, at least for tonight."

Spencer looked up at him, cheeks softly flushed, and Derek's heart leapt slightly in his chest.

"I was hoping you'd say that, Agent Morgan," Spencer said shyly as he nibbled on his bottom lip.

But Derek wasn't a fool. Even though Spencer was acting demurely, he knew it was a show for the other man standing with them. Derek certainly hadn't forgotten Spencer's unabashed advances and seductive promises over the last few days. They would be constantly at the forefront of his mind if he didn't actively try to push them aside. Knowing that, it probably wasn't the best idea for Derek to go home with the kid, but he also knew he didn't want him to be on his own tonight. Especially now that the case was over.

Derek wouldn't admit it to himself, but this was the last night he'd be spending with Spencer. He didn't care if caution dictated he should leave the kid alone, or even ask another one of the agents to escort him home in his place. This would probably be the last time he would ever see Spencer and he wanted to go out on his own terms.

* * *

Half an hour later, Derek and Spencer were walking through Spencer's front door. Derek had insisted on carrying all of Spencer's things and had been watching him carefully the entire ride over and as they ascended the stairs, to make sure that Spencer was really as "fine" as he said he was. As Derek locked the door behind him, he watched quietly as the boy strolled nonchalantly into the room. His eyes were easily drawn to the dark bruising around Spencer's neck which stood out in glaring contrast against the boy's pale skin. They had already grown darker since the last time Derek had looked at them.

His mind wandered back to the scene he had walked in on. The image of Adrian Moore—looming over Spencer, pressing his hands into the boy's windpipe with murderous intent, a crazed look on his face—would forever be burned on to Derek's retinas. He had felt his breath leave him when he saw Spencer like that, lying prostrate on the couch, struggling for air and fighting for his life. Derek had panicked. Thinking back, he wasn't even sure if he had followed protocol. Had he given Moore enough of an opportunity to relent, or had he just pulled the trigger, blinded by his rage and fear—too afraid of the idea of losing Spencer to wonder about saving another person's life? He shuddered at the thought. It didn't sit well with him that this case had affected him so—that he had all but unraveled because of some skinny, teenage boy he had only known for a matter of days and likely would never see again. But the thought of that—never seeing Spencer again—made something squeeze painfully in his chest.

"Are you going to stand by the door all night?" Spencer asked from in the kitchen. Derek hadn't even been aware that the boy had moved there. He could hear the sound of running water and guessed Spencer had gotten himself something to drink.

Spencer leaned over the breakfast bar and glanced at Derek, who still hadn't moved from his position.

"Are you all of a sudden afraid of me, Agent Morgan?" Spencer asked in that teasing voice.

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed away from the door. As he walked into the tiny kitchen he threw an unimpressed glance in Spencer's direction, watching as the boy leaned smugly against the counter.

"I don't see much to be afraid of," he responded.

Spencer frowned at him.

"Really? Last I checked, I single-handedly infiltrated a highly exclusive event that not even the FBI could gain access to and led you to a serial killer. I think the term people use for that is 'pretty bad ass,' if I'm not mistaken," Spencer said with a pout.

Derek laughed.

"I think a better term for that is  _reckless_ , kid. You shouldn't be so eager to throw your life away," Derek said as he shook his head and smiled softly at Spencer.

Looking up at the agent who had, at some point, drawn closer, Spencer was sure he could see something hesitant in his eyes.

"You jump head first into danger all the time, Derek. Don't you think  _that_  sounds like someone being eager to throw their life away?" Spencer asked softly as he looked down at his hands.

"It's different for me. I signed up for this. You didn't." Derek said simply.

Spencer frowned.

"Oh, so that means it's ok if you die, but not if I do?" he asked, giving the agent a disbelieving look.

"Basically," Derek responded.

Spencer looked at him with wide eyes.

"Unbelievable," he said as he threw his hands up. "You're probably one of the most irrational people I've ever met. I don't know what I see in you."

A beat of silence passed through the kitchen as each man looked at the other and absorbed those words.

Before Derek could open his mouth, he felt Spencer lean closer, closing the gap between them, and press his body against his.

"I wasn't kidding Derek… I want this. Come on, I know you do, too," Spencer breathed against Derek's neck, as he moved his hands under the agent's shirt and pressed his cool hand to the hot flesh of Derek's back.

"Spencer… you don't know what you want," Derek groaned out as he tried to disentangle himself from Spencer's grasp, but found that he was finding it difficult. He wondered if he was putting up any real fight at all.

"Why do you always think you need to tell me how I feel…? I'm a 'genius,' Derek, don't you think I understand my own brain?" Spencer asked, a slight hint of indignation in his tone. Apparently his annoyance did nothing to cool his advances because Derek felt Spencer shift so that their hips were pressed flush against each other. Derek stifled back a moan. This time he really did have to separate them.

Placing his hands on Spencer's shoulder and applying pressure, Derek gently pushed the boy away from him. Spencer gave him a look of exasperation.

"This isn't about being smart, Spencer… and it can't be about whether  _I_  want this." Derek said smiling sadly. "Being a genius doesn't mean that you can't get hurt, or that you're ready to make such big decisions on a whim. You've been through a lot and I think you need some time to just process all of that-"

"Stop patronizing me," Spencer said, cutting him off. "I'm 19-years-old. You don't think I can decide whether or not I have feelings for somebody?"

Spencer then moved closer to Derek, and Derek felt himself being backed up against the fridge. Suddenly, Spencer's lips were on his, and Derek found himself unable (or unwilling?) to fight against him. He let himself melt into the soft feeling of Spencer's plump lips and supple mouth. When Spencer opened his mouth to inhale a gasp of breath, Derek leaned forward, sliding his tongue between the boy's lips. Spencer's unexpected, yet enticing, moan sent a shock of heat through Derek's core. He reached out, wrapping his arms around Spencer's slight frame, pressing the boy tightly against him. Derek was vaguely aware of Spencer's hands on his shoulders and back, squeezing encouragingly. When Spencer gasped again, starved for air, Derek regained his senses, stepping back slightly from the younger male.

"Derek… _Derek_ ," Spencer moaned, with half-lidded, lust-darkened eyes, as he tried to lean in for another kiss. "I want you to fuck me, please. I want it so bad."

 _Shit_ , Derek chastised himself, as he felt a jolt of desire shoot right to his groin. This was the complete opposite of what he had intended for tonight. He seemed to always find himself in this position, and he shouldn't have allowed himself to get here. With every encounter they had—and each touch of the boy's warm body, and press of his soft lips—it was becoming harder and harder to say no.

"Spencer, you don't want that. Don't you get that this can never be anything more than  _tonight_? I'm going to be out of here tomorrow morning," Derek said, trying to talk some sense into the worked-up boy.

Spencer stepped back, eyes widening slightly. Then the look in his eyes changed, something guarded coming over them, and he tilted his head to the side, staring at Derek coquettishly.

"Who cares? So what if it's just one night? I want you to fuck me. Fuck me into the mattress with that big dick of yours," Spencer said, voice dropping into a sultry purr.

 _That_ got Derek's attention and brought him out of his lust-induced haze as if ice-water had been dumped over his head.

"Stop that!" Derek snapped at him, eyes flashing in anger, causing Spencer to flinch and take a step back in surprise.

"Stop all this bullshit. This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're just playing a  _role_  here, Spencer. The fact that you're standing here, talking like that, telling me what you  _think_ I want to hear, lets me know you have no idea what you really want. This… all this," Derek said as he gestured to Spencer in frustration, "isn't you at all."

Spencer frowned and his face flushed with humiliation.

"You don't get the right to say that to me!" Spencer shouted. "I  _know_  what I want! Stop treating me like some kid! I'm allowed to want this!"

"Just… stop it, Spencer. Stop trying to rush everything. You're just going to regret it later, and I'm not going to play a part in it," Derek said softly as he tried to find Spencer's eyes.

But Spencer wouldn't meet his eyes. He stood there, fists clenched and eyes staring hard at the floor.

"D-don't make me  _beg_ … I… I don't want you to leave without…" Spencer choked out.

Derek's heart leapt in his chest. He didn't want to deny Spencer. The kid looked so broken.

"Hey," Derek said, trying to get his attention, but Spencer refused to look up.

" _Hey_ ," he said more firmly as he stepped closer to Spencer and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him.

Spencer's eyes were wide and glassy, but he wasn't crying. There were so many emotions flitting through the kid's large, honey-colored eyes that Derek wasn't sure what he was seeing.

"Spencer… I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with you tonight, kid," Derek said soothingly.

"I know you're staying tonight," Spencer snapped, as he turned his eyes away. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Derek reached up and wiped at the corner of Spencer's eye, where he could see the beginning of a tear. When he pulled his thumb away, he could see the black smear of his smudged eyeliner.

"Spencer… look, you've had a rough night. Why don't you go get cleaned up and we can talk," Derek suggested.

"I don't  _want_  to talk, I want-" Spencer began again, turning flashing angry eyes on to Derek.

"Hey, hey. This isn't you," Derek said as he motioned to the makeup and the boy's tight, spandex clothing.

Spencer frowned, looking like he was ready to go on a tirade, but then Derek leaned close to his ear and whispered.

"This isn't my Pretty Boy," he breathed out against the boy's ear. "I like it better when you're not wearing all this stuff, hiding yourself from me."

Spencer stepped back and looked up at the agent, eyes wide and a soft blush dusting his cheeks.

"Come with me," Derek said as he grabbed Spencer's hand, leading him out of the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom.

Spencer's heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't believe it. Was Derek really going to…?

Spencer followed Derek into the bedroom, but then he saw Derek reaching for a stack of clothes on the nightstand. His pajamas.

"What-" Spencer asked as the man turned around and placed the items into his arms.

"Here, go take a shower." Derek instructed. And before Spencer could open his mouth to protest, Derek said, "I'll be waiting here when you get back. I promise."

Spencer frowned and gave the man a disbelieving look, but only let out a huff of displeasure as he turned away from the older man and walked out of the bedroom.

Derek sighed once Spencer's form disappeared from his line of sight.

* * *

Pacing the small room as he waited for Spencer to return from his shower, Derek was left alone with his thoughts. Thoughts which were consumed with the fact that he really didn't know what he was going to do. His heart was conflicted on the complicated topic that was Spencer Reid. He knew that he had to be the more rational person here—the "adult." He knew he shouldn't allow himself to give in to the boy's pleas, but he also knew that Spencer would misinterpret his rejection if he said no. And Derek had finally realized that he wasn't rejecting Spencer because he didn't  _want_  him—he had long ago made peace with the fact that his mind and his body yearned for Spencer Reid. And now his heart had been won by the boy too.

But Derek knew he had to say no to Spencer because he couldn't be sure why Spencer seemed to want  _him_. He didn't want to be some impulsive mistake that Spencer would look back on in a few days (maybe as quickly as a few  _hours_ ), after the haze and confusion from tonight had cleared, and regret. And from what Derek had pieced together in his time spent with the boy, Spencer had never been in love, never dated, and most importantly, never even had sex. All those important 'firsts' would forever stay with Spencer. And while Derek would be honored to be that for him, he didn't want to take that step unless he knew Spencer could handle the emotional repercussions.

A relationship was hard enough in itself, and theirs would have numerous additional complications. The first thing that crossed Derek's mind was the idea of dating another man. The fact that Spencer was a male had, surprisingly, never actually been that much of a problem for him. He had been attracted to Spencer from the first moment he had laid eyes on him in the club. But the fact that it had never bothered him that he was attracted to the boy was a startling discovery about himself that was hard enough, in itself, to deal with. However, Derek couldn't deny how his blood raced and mouth watered whenever he was able to touch or kiss Spencer. Whether he admitted it to himself, or not, it would not be difficult to make love to Spencer. In fact, that's really all he wanted to do at the moment. But Derek also had no idea how to be in a relationship with another man, or the societal difficulties that came along with that. And obviously Spencer didn't know either.

Then there was the fact that if they  _did_  decide to do this—whatever this was—it would be long-distance. His job required him to be in Quantico, and Spencer's situation, bleak as it was, was one that required him to stay here in Vegas. Derek had had experience with long distance relationships before, and they could either be a blessing or a curse. For the type of job he had, being able to keep a significant other away when things were rough, and to selectively see them when times were good, made balancing his personal and professional lives easier. However, long distance also meant a lack of closeness and an inability to physically experience life's ups and downs when thousands of miles separated you. It tested the strength of a relationship. And with how many people had disappointed Spencer in the past, Derek didn't want the boy to feel abandoned or alone. Derek knew how guarded and distrustful Spencer had been when he first met him. And he hated the idea that Spencer worked at the club, forcing himself to put up with the awful and dehumanizing treatment. Derek wanted to  _be_  there for Spencer; he wanted to be able to protect him from any and all kind of pain. That was even more important to him than any amount of sexual intimacy.

And that led Derek to thinking about how young Spencer was, and how much hurt he had been through in his short life. Spencer wasn't  _underage,_  but there was almost nine years in between them. Derek had had his chance to go through numerous relationships, good and bad. Spencer hadn't. And Derek was concerned about the boy's emotions being put through the wringer with the ups and downs of his first real relationship. Spencer was brilliant, and, in some ways, far more mature for his age than Derek would expect. But, in other areas, Spencer was almost childish in his naiveté. Spencer had never experienced a great heartbreak, and while Derek hoped he would never be the cause of the boy ever experiencing something like that, it was just realistic to admit that not all relationships worked out. Derek didn't know what he would do if he ever hurt Spencer in that way. He was  _afraid_ of that. And he wondered if maybe it was just better to keep his distance, and avoid hurting either one of them, like Roissi had suggested.

But, that just didn't seem to be a possibility at this point. Even with the endless list of difficulties Derek could think up, none of that did anything to dull the warm glow he felt in his gut every time he thought about Spencer. They were both so invested at this point that Derek was sure that, no matter what choice he made,  _someone_ could ultimately get hurt. Even with that realization, however, Derek suddenly knew that, if really given the chance, he  _would_  want to try to be with Spencer. He hadn't exactly had a spotless dating record and he had made numerous mistakes, but there was something about Spencer that made him want to try to be a better person. But, Derek was also mature enough to see that nothing about this was going to be easy—for either of them. If Spencer was going to take on something like that, Derek really wanted him to be certain. And, right now, he wasn't sure Spencer was in the right head-space to make that kind of decision. So, just like that, Derek felt like he had come to a conclusion about what he had to do.

When he heard the shower shut off, Derek tensed slightly. He knew that the discussion with Spencer would be difficult, especially if the boy tried to argue with him every step of the way, as Derek knew he would do. But, it was important for Derek to say all the things that he was feeling so that Spencer really understood. He needed him to know that he wanted him, that he valued him, and that he would be more than happy to be with him—if only the circumstances were different.

Hearing the door creak open, Derek glanced up and locked eyes with Spencer. Standing there, paused in the middle of towel-drying his hair, Spencer looked like he was actually surprised to see Derek still standing there. He knew that Spencer had seemed distrustful when he had left to go take his shower, and he probably believed Derek was going to use the shower as a ruse so he would have time to leave without facing the problem head on. So Derek wasn't surprised by the shock and apparent relief that was painted on the younger man's face.

Stepping forward and grabbing Spencer by the hands, Derek led him to the edge of the bed, forcing him to take a seat. Spencer watched on in confusion as Derek sank to one knee in front of him, pulling the towel off from around his shoulders and tossing it on the floor.

"I've lived a lot more than you have, Spencer," Derek began and, anticipating Spencer's protest he raised his hand, effectively silencing the boy. Ignoring Spencer's displeased pout, he continued.

"I know you're going to argue with me about life experience and, yes, I know that you had to grow up very fast because of the cards life dealt you. But it shouldn't have had to be that way, Spencer. And it doesn't mean that all the good in your life has to be gone. There's so much you can, and should, still do. And having your first great love is such an important experience that I don't want you to get what you feel now confused with what that really is. I don't want you to regret anything you do with me… I never want you to come to resent me, kid. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you did," Derek said as he looked down at the ground and shook his head.

Relieved that Spencer remained quiet, and knowing that what he had to get out would be difficult, Derek reclaimed Spencer's hands with his own, and began stroking the delicate skin at the boy's wrist. He told himself it was to soothe Spencer, but, in some way, it was soothing to him as well.

"I think… what I think is best is for us to have some distance… some  _time_ ," Derek said, and he could immediately feel the tension in Spencer's body. But, he didn't look up. He continued to stroke Spencer's skin and forced himself to push through with what he had to say.

"Once I'm gone and if you still feel the same way about me as you do now, that'll mean something. But for right now, with all that's been happening, I just don't know if you have feelings for  _me_  or if you would've felt the same way if it had been Hotch or Rossi with J.J. that day we picked you up from the club to interview you," Derek said, and he heard Spencer snort in disbelief.

" I… Spencer, I know how  _I_  feel about you. And, maybe… I think that maybe, if things were different, I'd really want to see if we could pursue something. But, things  _aren't_ different. Ever since we've been here, you've had a murderous stalker following you. You've been living in constant fear. You couldn't sleep, you couldn't feel safe in your own home, and then today…today-" Derek broke off, feeling strangely overcome with emotion thinking back to what had almost happened—what  _would_  have happened to Spencer if he had burst into the room even a single minute late.

Looking up at Spencer with serious eyes, and not missing the ugly bruise around the boy's neck, Derek squeezed Spencer's hands in his own, hoping to convey all that he was feeling through the gesture.

"You could've  _died_  today, Spencer. No one should have to go through something like that. And that takes time to come to terms with," Derek explained.

Spencer frowned at him, and it seemed like he was trying to pull his hands free from Derek's grip, but the older man wouldn't let go.

"That's just an excuse," Spencer said, as he glowered at him, an expression of hurt clearly apparent in his light-colored eyes. "Y-you just want to make me feel better about the fact that you don't want me."

Derek shook his head in disappointment. Spencer just wasn't  _getting_ it.

"Spencer, I don't want you to think for a second that anything's wrong with you. Kid, believe me when I say that you've got a  _lot_ of appeal. Too much, to be honest. Before meeting you, I never would have even  _thought_ I could be attracted to another man that way. But these past few days spent with you have definitely got me convinced that I have no problem with that. At. All. Believe me when I say you really got my head all messed up, and it's definitely been a  _struggle_ not to act on it and just jump you," Derek said as he gave Spencer a flirtatious wink and watched as the boy's face flushed.

"But even though I'm crazy-attracted to you, and I care very much about you, Spencer, I just don't know how to give you what you want right now. You know I have to leave here in the morning. And because we had such little time together, there's no way to know if… if a 'relationship' would have been possible. I'm not going to reduce you to a one-night stand. You mean too much for me to do something like that," Derek said.

Spencer was giving him a sad look, but Derek could also see that the boy was moved by his concern for him.

Derek reached out and gently stroked Spencer's cheek, causing Spencer to close his eyes and sigh softly.

"I'll be back in Virginia by this time tomorrow, and there's a real chance that maybe once I'm gone you'll just forget about me," Derek said, which caused Spencer to look up at him with indignation.

"Derek, I don't-" Spencer began, but Derek shushed him.

"We don't know what the future holds. You can't guarantee that now, with all the danger gone and the ability for your life to go back to normal, that you won't reconsider and think that maybe wanting me was a bad idea," Derek said as he looked into Spencer's eyes. "Maybe you'll find someone else. Someone with more things in common with you...someone around your age."

Spencer's eyebrows lowered in a glare at his words, and Derek looked away, smiling softly.

"But I want to do something for you… to give you something to think about in the meantime," Derek said.

Derek then got to his feet, and Spencer watched him curiously, a small frown still tugging at his lips.

"Spencer, I want you to learn to appreciate yourself, and really believe that you're  _worth_  something. Has anyone ever just done something for  _you_?" he asked him.

Spencer tilted his head to the side, as if confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"All your life… you've been doing things for others—trying to please people. And now, the job that you do, it's all about catering to the fantasies of others. But, has anyone ever given that to you?" Derek asked, eyes gleaming slightly.

Spencer's eyes widened, and he felt his cheeks flush.

"Kid, I want you to switch off everything you've learned from the club. The way you talk, and how you're so defensive and act more confident than you are. I can tell that you do that because you  _have_  to, not because you want to. I want you to stop playing a role. And just feel and experience as your real self. I want you to let me make  _you_ feel good, Spencer," Derek said as he stepped in front of Spencer and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

From his place sitting on the bed, Spencer had to crane his neck backwards so he could continue to look at the tall man. He had heard Derek's words, and they had caused his stomach to do a strange flip-flop, but he didn't really  _understand_  what Derek meant. No one had ever offered to just… make  _him_  feel good. He couldn't understand why Derek would want to do that.

Then Derek was leaning down, and capturing Spencer's lips with his own. Spencer gasped in surprise, and Derek took advantage of the opening to dip his tongue inside the boy's mouth. Their tongues languidly played with each other, before Derek pulled back and caught Spencer's bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged on it briefly, eliciting a pleasured moan from Spencer, before he moved away and stood towering over the boy again.

"That ok?" Derek asked with a smirk.

"Huh?" Spencer asked dazedly as he blinked up at Derek.

"Me making you feel good?" Derek asked, as he chuckled softly.

Unable to form coherent words, Spencer just nodded enthusiastically.

Spencer watched on as Derek, having gotten the green-light, climbed on the bed, straddling his hips with a knee on either side of him, and placed his hands on his shoulders pushing him back. Spencer let himself be maneuvered with little resistance, eyes still locked with Derek's dark brown ones. As Derek leaned over him, Spencer couldn't help but let his eyes flutter closed. He felt exposed like this, letting someone else be in control.

"Hey, open your eyes," Derek whispered, and Spencer immediately did as was told.

"I'm only going to do what you like," Derek said, holding Spencer's gaze.

Spencer blushed and turned his head to the side.

"I… I have no idea what I 'like,'" he admitted, feeling embarrassed.

But Derek only chuckled.

"That's ok. I'm here to help you figure that out," Derek said as he reached down and grabbed Spencer's chin, turning the boy's head so that he was facing him again. Spencer was looking at him with wide eyes and, while he seemed unsure of himself, there was nothing but trust in those large hazel eyes. Caressing Spencer's face, Derek smiled softly at him and leaned down to kiss him again. This time it was more chaste and Spencer sighed softly against his lips.

Pleased by the boy's response, Derek slid his hands down Spencer's neck, to his chest, and then lightly grazed them along his side, causing Spencer to shudder. As they continued to kiss, Derek's fingers ran down to Spencer's hips and ghosted underneath the boy's shirt, dancing over soft, warm flesh. As his fingers inched their way up the expanse of Spencer's pale stomach, they pushed his shirt up with them. And when Derek's hands finally settled on Spencer's bare chest, and his fingertips gently nudged the boy's already pebbled nipples, a soft mewl escaped Spencer's lips and he pulled his mouth away from Derek's.

"You ok with that, kid?" Derek asked, as he took in Spencer's wide-eyed expression.

Spencer felt like his heart would thunder its way out of his chest, it was beating so hard. It wasn't that he was scared. No, he felt completely safe with Derek. But, he was nervous, and giddy, and unsure of what to do. This was the first time anyone had ever touched him when he didn't feel like he wanted to shy away or tell them 'stop.' It was the first time it had ever felt  _good_. He felt like all the defenses he had worked so hard to build up had suddenly melted away. It was unsettling, but exhilarating, at the same time.

In response to Derek's question, Spencer hesitantly leaned up to reclaim Derek's lips, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. Allowing himself to explore, Spencer licked at Derek's lips and was rewarded by Derek opening his mouth, letting Spencer's tongue slip in. Derek enthusiastically responded to the boy's probing tongue and resumed his hands' path along Spencer's exposed skin. This time, when Spencer moaned again at the feel of Derek's warm hands on his trembling skin, Derek didn't stop and Spencer didn't pull away.

Wanting to feel more of the boy, Derek reluctantly pulled his lips away from Spencer's, gaining a sound of protest in response.

"Come on, let's get this off," Derek said huskily as he began tugging at the shirt.

Spencer sat up as Derek leaned back and allowed him to quickly pull his t-shirt up and over his head. When Derek attempted to lean back in to recapture Spencer's lips, Spencer stopped him and instead began tugging on Derek's shirt with a shy smile plastered on his lips. Derek smiled back and grabbed the back of his own shirt, quickly yanking it off.

When Spencer got his first full view of Derek's impeccably sculpted chest and abs, his face warmed and his lips parted in awe.

"Oh my  _God_ ," Spencer breathed out as he reached out to touch, but stopped himself at the last minute.

Derek chuckled.

"You can touch  _all_  you want, baby boy," he said, grinning at Spencer.

Spencer looked up at him and gave him a half-hearted pout, but there was no disguising the appreciation in his eyes.

"You sure you're not a model in your spare time?" he asked.

Derek only grinned in response and leaned in to place a quick kiss on the tip of Spencer's nose. When he pulled away again, he watched as Spencer tentatively reached out to him and began to trace the lines of his muscles. The gentle touches sent a shiver down Derek's spine. As the boy ran his hand from Derek's collarbone to his shoulder, he lingered on Derek's tattoo. And when Spencer leaned in and softly pressed his lips to the dark ink, tongue darting out for a tentative taste, Derek felt his control slipping.

He gently grabbed Spencer's hands and slowly pushed him down on to his back.

"My turn," he whispered.

He then leaned down, pressing his lips to Spencer's collarbone causing the boy to let out a soft sigh of pleasure. Smiling against the pale skin, Derek kissed and licked his way down to the boy's small nipple. Flicking his tongue out, he played with it before catching the flesh between his teeth. Spencer let out a strangled sound, a mix between a moan and a cry. He quickly clapped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment.

Smiling as he continued to tease the nipple between his lips, Derek ran his hand up Spencer's left side, tickling the flushed skin. Reaching the boy's neglected nipple, he began to roll it between his thumb and forefinger, while increasing the pressure on the flesh trapped between his lips. Spencer moaned again from behind his hand and shuddered. From his place straddling Spencer, Derek could feel the evidence of the boy's excitement pressing up against his thigh.

"I'm guessing you like that, huh, Pretty Boy?" Derek breathed against Spencer's skin.

He then began to kiss and lick down the expanse of Spencer's chest while his one hand continued to play with the boy's sensitive nipple. The flustered boy could only look on as the older man made his descent, chest heaving with his quick breaths.

As Derek slid his body down Spencer's, his knees met with the ground and he positioned himself between the boy's legs, propping himself up on Spencer's thighs. And once his mouth came upon Spencer's bellybutton, he delighted in being able to lick and kiss at the skin there. He had been incessantly teased by this little stretch of skin, but prohibited from touching it. And now that it was in front of him, he wanted to drive Spencer as crazy as the boy had been driving him. As his tongue dipped into Spencer's navel the boy jerked and let out another one of those keening moans from behind his hand. Derek could feel Spencer's cock growing harder, pressing into his stomach, and Derek felt his own erection throb.

Teasingly, he slid his hands down Spencer's sides and rested his fingers on the waistband of the boy's pajama pants. Glancing up at Spencer, and catching his eyes, Derek tugged on the loose-fitting pants, drawing a gasp from the boy's lips. Holding Derek's eyes, Spencer lifted his hips off the bed, assisting him and watched on as Derek slid the pants all the way down to his ankles. As the older man pulled the pants off and tossed them to the side, he ran his hands up Spencer's long, lean legs causing tremors to course through Spencer's body.

When Derek's fingers came to a stop against the waistband of Spencer's blue briefs, Spencer looked down at him with wide, yet curious, eyes. He licked his lips, and then drew his bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it as he appraised Derek. Derek's eyes darkened as he watched this and he wanted to kiss the boy again.

"A-are we going to…?" Spencer questioned.

"No," Derek said as he leaned up to place a kiss on Spencer's lips.

"Derek, I  _want_ to," Spencer said as he lifted his hips slightly, pressing them into Derek's.

Derek groaned as the boy came into contact with his own throbbing need.

"No," he said again, as he held Spencer's hips down to prevent the boy from doing that again. "That's not what this is about."

"But-" Spencer began, his confusion apparent.

"Shh, shh," Derek said. "I told you to just let  _me_  make you feel good."

He then winked at Spencer, causing the boy to blush with realization.

"Ah… I… _Oh_." Spencer sputtered out.

Derek chuckled as he scooted back down the bed and kneeled in front of Spencer again. Following Derek's descent with his eyes, and leaning up on his elbows to get a better look, Spencer felt his face heat up again as he saw the passionate look in Derek's eyes. He had never had someone do  _this_  to him, and the thought of it had him feeling extremely embarrassed. So when Derek's hands returned to his underwear, Spencer quickly reached down and grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"C-can we… um, please, turn off the lights," Spencer asked, face darkening in a blush.

Derek looked at him carefully, trying to figure out if Spencer was just shy or if he was actually having second-thoughts.

"Spencer, you're gorgeous. You have nothing to be ashamed of," he said as he rubbed Spencer's hip reassuringly. "And, if you want to just stop, we can do that too."

"No! I don't want to stop," Spencer said quickly, looking at Derek seriously. When the man stared back at him without arguing, Spencer knew he believed him. But he was waiting for an explanation.

"I-I'm just really embarrassed, ok? So… _please_ ," Spencer said, as he gave Derek a pleading look.

Spencer didn't know where the sudden bashfulness had come from. He had been completely naked in front of hundreds of men. But, for some reason, those felt nothing like this. That was  _work_. He didn't care about those men. But now—with Derek—it felt so different. It felt like Derek  _was_  really looking at him as something beautiful—not something to defile and demean. It just felt so much more  _intimate_. But it was exactly that intimacy that made Spencer's heart race, and his face heat up, and his stomach flutter like there were a million butterflies crashing around inside.

Derek smiled softly in understanding and nodded at Spencer.

"Ok," he said as he shifted and rolled to the other side of the bed. Leaning over, Derek clicked off the bedside table lamp and the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. As their eyes adjusted, the room was almost completely void of light save for soft slivers peeking through the slats in the blinds and the glowing of Spencer's alarm clock on the bedside table. They could barely see each other.

Spencer listened to the rustling of the sheets as Derek made his way back over to him, and sighed softly as he felt the older man's warm hands reach out to him, rubbing his shoulders and sides. Then Derek's lips were pressing against the corner of his mouth, and Spencer moaned softly.

"You need to tell me if at any point you want me to stop," he said against Spencer's lips.

"I won't want you to," Spencer moaned.

He felt Derek grip his wrist and squeeze, and he looked up into the older man's eyes. This close, he could make out that Derek was looking at him with a serious expression.

"I mean it, Spencer, or we're not doing this," he said, pulling away from the boy's searching lips.

"O-ok. Ok, I will," Spencer said, hurriedly. "Now, please, touch me already."

Spencer listened as Derek chuckled, and he swore he could see the older man's eyes twinkling.

"Yes, sir," Derek said as he swooped in for one last peck against Spencer's lips. And then he was making his way back down to the end of the bed, and in between Spencer's legs. This time, when Derek's hands reached up to Spencer's hips, he didn't stop them and shimmied to help Derek pull his underwear down. Spencer shuddered as the cool air hit his exposed skin.

Derek ran one hand up the inside of Spencer's thigh, feeling the muscle tremble underneath his fingertips, and splayed his other hand on Spencer's stomach, to keep him in place. As he stroked his knuckles against the soft flesh of Spencer's inner thigh he heard a low moan, that was then muffled as Spencer clamped his hand down over his mouth again. Every time the boy moaned, it sent a shock of pleasure through Derek.

He reached up and grabbed Spencer's wrist, pulling the boy's hand away from his mouth.

"And I want to hear you, so don't cover up your mouth," Derek said huskily.

Although Spencer was mostly obscured in the darkness, he vaguely made out the boy nodding. And Spencer put up little resistance as Derek moved his hand away and laid it on the bed next to him.

Then Spencer felt Derek's large, warm hand close around his already hard cock and he jumped, startled by the jolt of pleasure as Derek slowly stroked him. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut and throwing his head back against the bed, Spencer wanted badly to cover his mouth again, knowing another moan would come out. But instead he fisted his hands in the sheets, panting softly. He couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped his lips as Derek increased the speed and tightness of his strokes. His hips involuntarily bucked off the bed, but Derek's hand on his stomach deftly held him down, leaving Spencer little choice but to writhe in pleasure.

Feeling impressed with himself for being able to reduce Spencer so quickly to a shuddering mess, Derek felt almost guilty for what he was going to do next. But, the sounds Spencer was making—even though Derek knew the younger man was trying to hold back his voice—were enough to make his mouth water. He wanted to taste Spencer. He wanted to make him moan even more.

Smirking devilishly, Derek leaned forward, pressing his lips to the already dripping head of Spencer's cock and licked teasingly.

"Derek!" Spencer gasped.

And then Derek was enveloping the boy's rigid length with his mouth, turning Spencer's words into a string of unintelligible moans. His enthusiastic response encouraged Derek, and he continued to lovingly suck, lick and kiss until the boy was shaking underneath him.

"Ungh! D-Derek! I-I'm cumming!" Spencer panted.

Hearing the boy's breathy warning, Derek pulled his mouth away. He continued to pump Spencer with his hand until the boy's body tensed, and he came, shooting ropes of come on to his heaving stomach and chest.

Spencer's body fell back on the bed, almost boneless as he tried to catch his breath. Derek crawled up the bed, laying soft kisses along Spencer's arm, shoulder and neck along the way. Breathing hard himself, Derek planted a kiss to Spencer's cheek and then collapsed next to him on the bed.

"T-that was _...amazing,"_  Spencer said, voice still breathy.

He glanced over to where Derek was lying, and could make out Derek grinning at him. Spencer lazily smiled back. He then rolled on to his side, scooting close to Derek and closing the gap between them, pressing his body against Derek's. He gently cupped Derek's face with his hands and placed a soft kiss on his lips, gaining an appreciative moan from the older man. Spencer laughed against Derek's mouth, as he ran his hands down his chest. His fingers quickly darted to Derek's belt and began undoing it when Derek's hands grabbed his, stopping him.

"Wha-" Spencer began, voice laced with confusion.

"You don't have to do that," Derek panted out.

"But… you didn't…" Spencer trailed off. He could feel Derek's very obvious erection pressing against his thigh. To make his point, Spencer moved his leg, applying pressure.

Derek let out a soft groan, and then shifted his body, moving away from Spencer's touch.

"It's ok… I'm ok. This was about  _you,_ kid. Just… let me lie here for a little while until I calm down," Derek said.

Spencer remained where he was, only letting out a disgruntled sigh in response.

Derek was surprised when Spencer didn't put up a fight, but he was also grateful for it. He was happy he was able to have given Spencer pleasure, but his resolve to do that, and  _only_  that, was slowly crumbling. Listening to Spencer's moans had made him rock hard and his ability to remain rational was being sorely tried. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply to try to get himself under control, Derek concentrated on the sounds of his and Spencer's breaths.

But then he felt movement as the bed dipped next to him, and he let out a gasp as he felt the weight of Spencer Reid sitting in his lap. Naked and sweaty, Spencer was straddling his hips, pressing down on his straining cock.

" _Spencer_ ," Derek groaned as he reached up, grabbing the boy's hips in an attempt to stop the delicious pressure he was applying.

But Spencer grabbed Derek's hands and pulled them above his head, pressing them down into the mattress. His lips covered Derek's, muffling any protest the older man could have given as Spencer pressed backwards resuming the tantalizing friction. Derek put up very little resistance. He could have stopped Spencer if he really wanted to. Instead, he let out a groan of appreciation as Spencer swiveled his hips, grinding down on him through his jeans.

Spencer's slow but purposeful movements were driving Derek insane and when he heard Spencer whimper above him, signaling he was getting off on this as well, he almost lost it. Pulling his hands free from Spencer's grip, Derek returned his hands to the boy's hips, but this time they pulled him closer instead of trying to push him away. Derek thrust his hips upward, and both he and Spencer let out a moan of pleasure. Spencer slid his hands to Derek's chest, as if looking for an anchor, and ground back against Derek's thrusting. But it just wasn't enough.

"Shit," Derek said, as he reached down between them and started to undo his belt. He had tried to control himself, but, now, all he could think about was being skin-to-skin. Spencer's hands soon joined him and together they were able to pull off Derek's jeans, followed by his underwear. But before Spencer could touch him, Derek grabbed both his wrists in one hand. He then kissed Spencer hard, before pushing him back down on to the bed. Still holding Spencer's wrists, Derek kissed, licked and nipped any exposed skin he came across from Spencer's neck to his chest.

Spencer moaned, arching his back and thrusting his hips up against Derek's. When their cocks came into contact, both hot and slick with each other's pre-come, Derek bit down on Spencer's shoulder and Spencer let out a high-pitched moan.

"Get on your hands and knees," Derek ordered gruffly.

Spencer tensed, hearing the lustiness in Derek's voice. But, his own lust outweighed any hesitation he had and he quickly scurried to assume the position. His heart thumped in his chest as he could feel Derek moving behind him, and he let out a small whimper of anticipation as he felt the heat of Derek's chest on his back. He then felt Derek's hands on his chest, fingers running over his nipples. And Spencer trembled.

"D-Derek, are we going to-" Spencer asked, looking over his shoulder.

"No, kid, just bear with me," Derek said quickly, as he shifted closer and ran his hands over the plump round curves of Spencer's ass.

Spencer moaned softly at the contact, and let himself be maneuvered as he felt Derek's strong hands grip his hips and pull him backwards. He then let out a squeak of surprise as he felt Derek's thick cock slide between his thighs.

"Squeeze your thighs together, tight," Derek instructed in a breathy voice.

And Spencer did as he was told, moaning loudly as Derek's cock rubbed against the underside of his, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. Derek echoed his moan as he thrust hard between Spencer's soft thighs, simulating the tightness he yearned to feel by burying himself inside of the boy. Spencer rocked back against Derek with each thrust, finding himself getting hotter and hotter and, spurred by the delicious friction, he found himself wanting to feel more.

"Derek, it feels so good," he moaned. "I want you to put it inside me. I want to do it for real."

"No," Derek forced himself to say. "This is going to have to be enough for now, kid."

Growling his frustration, Spencer squeezed his thighs together even tighter, gaining an appreciative growl from the man behind him. He wanted Derek to feel as desperate as he was. The older man had too much control.

Snaking his hand down in between his thighs, Spencer encircled both his and Derek's cocks, sliding his thumb over the slickened heads.

"Ungh!" Derek groaned out, as he leaned closer to Spencer, shuddering against his back. "Kid, you're going to be the death of me."

Spencer grinned in triumph as he pumped in time with Derek's thrusts. Soon, however, Derek's thrusts became harder and more erratic and Spencer's hand quickened its pace, as he, too, frantically searched for release.

"Shit!" Derek growled out as he felt his climax quickly approaching. He had already been dangerously on the edge before he started this, and now the added stimulation of Spencer's hand was obliterating the last vestiges of his control.

With one final, powerful thrust between Spencer's plush thighs and into his warm hand, Derek felt himself come apart at the seams.

Derek came hard and Spencer followed only a few seconds behind, moaning loudly. They both collapsed on the bed, a sticky, sweaty mess of tangled limbs. Breathing heavily, Derek forced himself to his elbows so he could roll off of Spencer. He was sure he would crush the kid if he passed out like that. Grabbing Spencer around the shoulder, he scooted up to the head of the bed, pulling the still-dazed boy with him.

Throwing back the covers to allow Spencer and himself to get under them, Derek plopped his head against the pillow, one arm behind his head and the other tightly around Spencer's shoulder. He found himself suddenly hit with a wave of welcomed exhaustion. The day had been so long, culminating in the terrifying experience of having to dispatch the Unsub as he was trying to kill Spencer. The last few days, in actuality, had been exhausting, with Derek getting little to no sleep as he pushed himself to the limit trying to keep Spencer safe. But, now, with the boy curled up against his side, and knowing that the Unsub could never hurt him again, Derek finally felt like he could relax. He was relieved. And he was happy.

"Derek?" Spencer murmured sleepily, as he snuggled into Derek's side, sounding as if he wanted to ask a question.

"Shh, kid. Shh," Derek said groggily as he laid a sloppy kiss against Spencer's temple and ran his hand through the boy's soft hair.

"Mmm," Spencer murmured back. "Ok, ok. Fine, but… Just… Thank you."

Derek smiled, knowing Spencer's 'thank you' encompassed more than just everything that had happened that night, and he kissed him again. And soon, they were both asleep.

* * *

Hours later, Derek's eyes cracked open as he felt the first rays of light falling on his face. He yawned as he raised his left arm to get a look at his watch. 6:15 a.m. When he tried to stretch his other arm he realized that there was something heavy on it and it was tingling with numbness. Glancing to his side, he smiled brightly as he saw Spencer curled up against his right side, using his arm as a pillow. That was a sight he could probably easily get used to.

He allowed himself to watch the peacefully slumbering boy for a few minutes more before he sighed begrudgingly to himself. He had to be on the jet in less than three hours. And in the meantime, he had some business he needed to take care of before he left Las Vegas. So, reluctantly, Derek slowly eased his arm out from under the soft mop of Spencer's hair.

Leaning over, and brushing Spencer's bangs off of his forehead, Derek placed a soft kiss on the exposed skin. He couldn't risk waking Spencer up. After the night they had spent together, Derek knew that things could never go back to normal. He had liked being with Spencer too much. He cared about him too much. He  _wanted_  him too much. If Spencer woke up and he was faced with those wide, clear honey-colored eyes, he would never want to leave. He knew that if Spencer only asked him to, he'd throw all caution to the wind and just stay here with the kid.

But wanting those things told Derek that he was already too far gone. What they had was passionate and intense, but they were also caught up in the moment. It was the morning after an attempt had been made on Spencer's life and he had watched a murderer get gunned down in front of him. Spencer needed time to work through those feelings, on top of everything else going on in his personal life. So he would stay true to what he said—he would give Spencer  _time_. If, after everything had settled down, and Spencer still felt this way later well… well, Derek would be more than willing to try to give this a shot. But, for now, time was the answer. And he would give Spencer as much time as he needed.

Successfully disentangling himself from the sheets without rousing Spencer, Derek couldn't resist leaning down and giving him a soft peck on the lips. Then, getting to his feet, he quickly got dressed, intentionally avoiding looking back at Spencer. Once he was dressed, he walked purposefully to the door. Pausing with his hand on the door knob, he allowed himself one final look at Spencer. Curled up in the spot Derek had vacated, with his arms wrapped around the pillow Derek had been sleeping on, Spencer looked so peaceful. That was enough to give Derek the courage to leave. He knew Spencer would be safe, because he was going to do everything in his power to ensure that. He then turned away from the endearing sight, opened the door, and walked out of Spencer Reid's life.

* * *

It was minutes to 10 a.m., when Emily glanced up and watched as Derek walked on to the jet. She looked on as he nodded at Hotch and Rossi who were sitting across from each other, each reading and sipping coffee. Derek then made his way down the aisle towards her.

"I thought we were going to leave without you," Emily joked as he settled down in the seat across from her. She tapped her watch as she gave him a playfully disapproving look.

Derek smiled widely at her.

"Yeah, right. I wasn't going to miss this flight for anything in the world. After what we've been through the last couple of days, home never looked so sweet," Derek said.

"We missed you at breakfast," J.J. said as she strolled past him and took the seat next to Emily. She had just returned from making herself a cup of tea at the back of the jet. "How was Spencer?"

Derek stiffened slightly.

"Spencer? What about him?" he asked.

J.J. frowned, forehead creasing slightly in confusion.

"Well, you didn't return to your room last night. I just figured you ended up staying over there…?" she asked.

Derek glanced to his side and could see that Hotch had placed down the file he was reading and was now looking at him curiously. He could also see that Rossi had  _purposefully_ not looked up, and seemed far too interested in his paper. The team had known he was going to be escorting Spencer home, as they finished up with securing the crime scene and investigating Adrian Moore's house. And it wasn't like it was especially out of the ordinary that he would choose to stay with Spencer following the events that transpired at the party, especially with the rapport they had built up during this case. So, he knew he was probably being overly paranoid about his colleague's questions, but Derek couldn't help but to feel tense. If they only knew what he had spent  _his_  night doing…

"Oh… yeah. I did," Derek said, looking away from the curious gazes of his colleagues, as he began fidgeting with his mp3 player. "But I left early this morning… before he even woke up."

"Oh, so you didn't even say goodbye?" J.J. asked, her disappointment evident in her tone.

"I figured I said all I needed to last night. He was still a bit shook up from the case when we got back to his apartment, so we talked about it for quite a while. And he seemed so beat last night that I didn't want to wake him this morning. But, I think he'll be ok," he told her.

"Well… I'm sure it was difficult to say goodbye. Spencer seemed really attached to you, and it's obvious he's grown on you as well," Emily said, sending a sad smile in his direction.

Derek wanted to nod and smile back at her. But he knew he couldn't acknowledge anything about his relationship with Spencer. He had promised himself he would back off and let the kid have some time to think things over. It wouldn't make sense if Derek was pining over him in the meantime.

"I think the kid'll be ok," Derek said again as he pulled out his headphones. "He's stronger than any of us could imagine."

The other four agents looked at him with interest as he placed the headphones over his ears and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, the pilot was announcing their take-off and everyone became lost in their own thoughts as the plane ascended into the air.

* * *

A few days later, back in Quantico, Derek was intercepted by Garcia as he walked into the bullpen. As usual, his favorite technical analyst was decked out in a flamboyant outfit, color-coded from head to toe, including the color of her glasses. The color of the day was apparently lime-green.

"Hey, tall, dark, and packin', you've got a call for you on line two," she informed as she smiled at him over her bedazzled coffee cup.

"A call?" he asked, eyebrow raised in confusion. He didn't have any active cases so he wasn't expecting any calls. All the team had on deck for the next week or so was paperwork. Their stay in Vegas had exceeded the normal amount of time they usually spent on a case, and they weren't expected to be dispatched on any new cases until they had caught up on neglected work.

"I don't know who it is, but it got patched through. So I'm guessing this person has your direct line. I was just walking by when I heard it ringing," she said as she pointed behind him to his desk.

"Ok, thanks mama. I'll handle it," Derek said as he gave her a wink and walked past her.

Once he was settled, he glanced at the flashing red light, wondering who could be calling. Shrugging to himself, he picked up the receiver and pressed the button.

"This is Agent Morgan," he said.

"Um… hi, it's me… Um, Spencer," a familiar voice said.

Derek was stunned. He hadn't expected Spencer to call. But he could do little to hide the grin that broke out on his face. He was happy to hear his voice. It sent a warm feeling straight to the pit of his stomach.

"Hey kid!" he said, his excitement evident.

"H-hi," Spencer replied, shyly.

Derek was sure he could hear a hint of a smile in Spencer's voice, and it warmed his heart.

"So, what's up? I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon," Derek said.

In actuality, Derek really hadn't expected to hear from Spencer Reid at  _all_. He had left Vegas, and he knew he was also supposed to leave this case behind. He figured Spencer would have wanted to do the same, especially after Derek had left without much of a word of goodbye. But hearing Spencer's voice lifted some sort of tension off his shoulders; a tension Derek hadn't even realized was there until now.

"I… I got a letter in the mail today," Spencer said hesitantly.

Derek raised an eyebrow in confusion, but let the boy speak.

"Uh… I'm not quite sure who it's from. But… it's a check for  _$100,000_ , Derek," Spencer said, the awe apparent in his voice.

Derek cringed as he listened to what Spencer was saying. He knew  _exactly_  what this call was about.

"I… the only thing the letter says is: 'Here's the money like I promised. You can thank your Fed friend.' So…I- I can only assume that's referring to  _you_. What's going  _on_?" Spencer asked.

Derek had to restrain himself from cursing. His instructions had been specific: his involvement was not to be mentioned. After he had left Spencer the morning of his last day in Vegas, Derek had made a personal detour to the office of Danny Wallace. Derek had told Wallace that he knew what he and Demetri Santos had done to Spencer and that Spencer could still press charges against him if he wanted to. If Spencer did that, Wallace's entire empire would come crumbling down around him. Derek had then told Wallace that if he wanted Derek to go away, he would write an anonymous check, made out to Spencer Reid, and would promise never to bother the boy again.

Wallace had begrudgingly agreed after Derek had told a little white lie and convinced Wallace that they were in possession of the missing DVD, and all they would need to convict Wallace was for Spencer to give a statement that implicated Wallace in having lured him in. Wallace was an accomplice, and he was stuck. So he had agreed to Derek's terms. But Derek had told Wallace that Spencer was never supposed to know where the money had come from. While Wallace hadn't given Derek's name, or his own for that matter, Derek was sure the man had purposefully mentioned "'Fed friend" as a parting 'fuck you' to the agent.

Sighing in frustration, knowing that the jig was up, Derek thought carefully about what he was going to say to Spencer. He didn't want the kid to think the money was 'hush-money' or that he was in some way monetizing what had happened to him and putting a price on his abuse. He just wanted Spencer to know that something good was happening to him. And he didn't have to be worried about owing any one, or, more importantly, about having to continue living a life he was unhappy with.

"Listen… don't be mad at me, kid," Derek began. "But I… may have tracked down someone I really think owes you for having done wrong by you in the past. Losing this money isn't going to make any major dent in his pocket, and I think it'll be a good way for you to start over…. You deserve that."

There was silence across the line, and Derek couldn't be sure if Spencer was just processing the information, or if he was too incensed to speak.

"S-start over?" came the boy's hesitant voice.

Derek smiled softly, relieved that Spencer didn't seem angry.

"Yeah, kid. That's a lot of money. You can do anything you want with it. You don't have to work at the club anymore," Derek said as he lowered his voice. "You can go get a regular job. You can even go back to school if you really want to. And, it'll help you with taking care of your mother."

"Why would you do that for me?" Spencer asked, his disbelief apparent in his voice.

"You've been through so much. I know I can't fix everything, and I know I can't be there to help you when things get tough. But I just wanted to do something to make you happy. And to let you know not to give up. I care too much about you to let you do that to yourself, kid." Derek said.

"I… I don't know what to say," Spencer said softly.

"You don't have to say anything. I  _wanted_  to do this for you." Derek told him.

Spencer didn't respond, but Derek heard a distinct choking sound coming from across the phone.

"Spencer?" Derek asked, concerned.

"I- I'm o-ok, j-just give me a minute," Spencer said, his voice breaking in places.

He was crying.

"Kid…" Derek began, feeling his heart clenching. It was insane how much he wished he could reach through the phone and wrap his arms around the boy's slight frame, just like he had the last night he spent with him.

Derek listened in silence as Spencer breathed deeply, as if trying to get himself together.

"I… I really… Just… Thank you," Spencer finally said.

"No problem kid." Derek responded, smiling fondly. He knew he didn't have to say anything else. Spencer understood what he meant to him.

"Hey… Derek?" Spencer asked, hesitantly, after a moment.

"Yeah?" Derek asked, curiously.

"I… if I'm…you know… ever in D.C., is it ok if I look you up?" Spencer asked.

Derek's eyes widened in surprise, a warm glow growing within him at the thought.

"I'd love that, kid." He said with a smile.

* * *

A/N: So, that's it guys! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! I love all of you and can't wait to take another ride sometime soon! I know I write lengthy authors' notes, but if you read a single one of them please let it be this one because  **the story's not over yet!**

I kind of feel bad ending it here without a "real" consummation of the relationship, but ultimately, it just felt "right." I realized that, based on how I set these characters up it would be kind of unconscionable for Morgan to  _truly_  give in and "ravish" Spencer (lol) at this point. You see, while this story may have been lengthy, in real-time Spencer and Derek have probably only known each other for  _days_  (maybe 2 weeks if we're being generous—I was kind of purposeful about not really talking about time in this story). Plus, with Spencer's past traumas and Derek's focus on 'duty,' 'professionalism,' and 'morality,' it just seemed inorganic that he'd throw caution to the wind and "get down with the get down" all of a sudden. Thus, I decided what they needed was some  _time_.

So, I've  **decided to write a follow-up**  to this story entitled "Pretty Boy Reprise." I've already started writing it, so hopefully you won't be waiting longer than a few weeks before you get the first chapter. :) It'll take place 6 months after the events taking place here and focus, mainly, on if and how Spencer and Derek can make a relationship work. So, we'll pick back up in an 'aftermath' sort of way. I imagine it's going to have a lot of smut in it (haha), but it'll be pretty angsty, too. I'm not 100% sure where I want to take it, but I'll try to build a good plot into it, in any case. And, I intend (operative word) to make it shorter than the original (which was almost 150,000 words D:). So, hopefully you'll come along for the ride!

Xoxo


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